THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BEFORE  THE  DAWN 


OTHER  BOOKS 
JOSEPH  A.  ALTSHELER 

The  Sun  of  Saratoga 
A  Soldier  of  Manhattan 
A  Herald  of  the  West 
The  Last  Rebel 
In  Circling  Camps 
In  Hostile  Red 
The  Wilderness  Road 
My  Captive 


Before  the  Dawn 

A  Story  of  the  Fall  of 
Richmond 


By 
JOSEPH  A.  ALTSHELER 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE    &    COMPANY 
1903 


Copyright,  1903,  bjr 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Compi 
Published  April,  190) 


•RS 


For  the  rhyming  pun, 
given  by  a  member  of 
The  Mosaic  Club,  and 
quoted  in  the  third  chapter 
of  this  book,  the  author  is 
indebted  to  T.  C.  DeLeon's 
ftF0ur  Ytan  in  Rtbet 
Capitals." 


CONTENTS 

• •  A--'*  r*oi 

I.     A  Woman  in  Brown 3 

II.     A  Man's  Mother 16 

III.  The  Mosaic  Club 25 

IV.  The  Secretary  Move* 40 

V.    An  Elusive  Face 52 

VI.  The  Pursuit  of  a  Woman     ....      71 

VII.  The  Cottage  in  the  Side  Street    ...       83 

VIII.     The  Pall  of  Winter 97 

IX.     Robert  and  Lucia 117 

X.     Feeding  the  Hungry 131 

XI.  Mr.  Scfton  Makes  a  Confidence  .        .        .137 

XII.     A  Flight  by  Two 150 

XIII.  Lucia's  Farewell 162 

XIV.  Prcscott's  Ordeal 170 

XV.     The  Great  Rivals 181 

XVI.     The  Great  Revival 193 

XVII.  The  Wilderness    .        .  *    .        .        .        .104 

XVIII.  Day  in  the  Wilderness          ....     206 

XIX.  Night  in  the  Wilderness       .        .        .        .223 

XX.  The  Secretary  Looks  On      .        .        .        .236 

XXI.     A  Delicate  Situation 148 

vii 


CONTENTS— Continued 


CHAPTER 

XXII.  The  Lone  Sentinel      . 

XXIII.  Out  of  the  Forest       . 

XXIV.  The  Despatch  Bearer 
XXV.  The  Mountain  General 

XXVI.  Calypso       .... 

XXVII.  The  Secretary  and  the  Lady 

XXVIII.  The  Way  Out    . 

XXIX.  The  Fall  of  Richmond 

XXX.  The  Telegraph  Station        . 

XXXI.  The  Coin  of  Gold 


PAGl 
264 
269 
280 
2Q2 
300 
323 

334 
346 
360 
370 


BEFORE  THE  DAWN 


CHAPTER   I 

A    WOMAN    IN    BROWN 

A  tall,  well-favoured  youth,  coming  from  the 
farther  South,  boarded  the  train  for  Richmond  one 
raw,  gusty  morning.  He  carried  his  left  arm  stiffly, 
his  face  was  thin  and  brown,  and  his  dingy  uniform 
had  holes  in  it,  some  made  by  bullets;  but  his  air  and 
manner  were  happy,  as  if,  escaped  from  danger  and 
hardships,  he  rode  on  his  way  to  pleasure  and  ease. 

He  sat  for  a  time  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the 
gray,  wintry  landscape  that  fled  past,  and  then,  having 
a  youthful  zest  for  new  things,  looked  at  those  who 
traveled  with  him  in  the  car.  The  company  seemed 
to  him,  on  the  whole,  to  lack  novelty  and  interest, 
being  composed  of  farmers  going  to  the  capital  of  the 
Confederacy  to  sell  food;  wounded  soldiers  like  him- 
self, bound  for  the  same  place  in  search  of  cure ;  and 
one  woman  who  sat  in  a  comer  alone,  neither  speaking 
nor  spoken  to,  her  whole  aspect  repelling  any  rash 
advance. 

Prescott  always  had  a  keen  eye  for  woman  and 
beauty,  and  owing  to  his  long  absence  in  armies, 
where  both  these  desirable  objects  were  scarce,  his 
vision  had  become  acute ;  but  he  judged  that  this  lone 
type  of  her  sex  had  no  special  charm.  Tall  she  cer- 
tainly was,  and  her  figure  might  be  good,  but  no  one 
with  a  fair  face  and  taste  would  dress  as  plainly  as 
she,  nor  wrap  herself  so  completely  in  a  long,  brown 
cloak  that  he  could  not  even  tell  the  colour  of  her 
eyes.  Beautiful  women,  as  he  knew  them,  always 
had  a  touch  of  coquetry,  and  never  hid  their  charms 
wholly. 

Prescott 's  attention  wandered  again  to  the  land- 
scape rushing  past,  but  finding  little  of  splendour  or 
beauty,  it  came  back,  by  and  by,  to  the  lone  woman. 

3 


4  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

He  wondered  why  she  was  going  to  Richmond  and 
what  was  her  name.  She,  too,  was  now  staring  out  of 
the  window,  and  the  long  cloak  hiding  her  seemed  so 
shapeless  that  he  concluded  her  figure  must  be  bad. 
His  interest  declined  at  once,  but  rose  again  with  her 
silence  and  evident  desire  to  be  left  alone. 

As  they  were  approaching  Richmond  a  sudden  jar 
of  the  train  threw  a  small  package  from  her  lap  to 
the  floor.  Prescott  sprang  forward,  picked  it  up 
and  handed  it  to  her.  She  received  it  with  a  curt 
"Thanks,"  and  the  noise  of  the  train  was  so  great 
that  Prescott  could  tell  nothing  about  the  quality  of 
her  voice.  It  might  or  might  not  be  musical,  but  in 
any  event  she  was  not  polite  and  showed  no  gratitude. 
If  he  had  thought  to  use  the  incident  as  an  opening 
for  conversation,  he  dismissed  the  idea,  as  she  turned 
her  face  back  to  the  window  at  once  and  resumed  her 
study  of  the  gray  fields. 

"Probably  old  and  plain,"  was  Prescott 's  thought, 
and  then  he  forgot  her  in  the  approach  to  Richmond, 
the  town  where  much  of  his  youth  had  been  spent. 
The  absence  of  his  mother  from  the  capital  was  the 
only  regret  in  this  happy  homecoming,  but  he  had 
received  a  letter  from  her  assuring  him  of  her  arrival 
in  the  city  in  a  day  or  two. 

When  they  reached  Richmond  the  woman  in  the 
brown  cloak  left  the  car  before  him,  but  he  saw  her 
entering  the  office  of  the  Provost-Marshal,  where  all 
passes  were  examined  with  minute  care,  every  one 
who  came  to  the  capital  in  those  times  of  war  being 
considered  an  enemy  until  proved  a  friend.  Prescott 
saw  then  that  she  was  not  only  tall,  but  very  tall, 
and  that  she  walked  with  a  strong,  graceful  step. 
"After  all,  her  figure  may  be  good,"  he  thought, 
revising  his  recent  opinion. 

Her  pass  was  examined,  found  to  be  correct,  and  she 
left  the  office  before  his  own  time  came.  He  would 
have  asked  the  name  on  her  pass,  but  aware  that 
the  officer  would  probably  tell  him  to  mind  his  own 
business,  he  refrained,  and  then  forgot  her  in  the 
great  event  of  his  return  home  after  so  long  a  time 
of  terrible  war.  He  took  his  way  at  once  to  Franklin 


A  WOMAN   IN   BROWN  5 

Street,  where  he  saw  outspread  before  him  life  as  it 
was  lived  in  the  capital  of  the  Confederate  States  of 
America.  It  was  to  him  a  spectacle,  striking  in  its 
variety  and  refreshing  in  its  brilliancy,  as  he  had 
come,  though  indirectly,  from  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  where  it  was  the  custom  to  serve  half- 
rations  of  food  and  double  rations  of  gunpowder. 
Therefore,  being  young,  sound  of  heart  and  amply 
furnished  with  hope,  he  looked  about  him  and  rejoiced. 

Richmond  was  a  snug  little  town,  a  capital  of  no 
great  size  even  in  a  region  then  lacking  in  city  growth, 
but  for  the  time  more  was  said  about  it  and  more  eyes 
were  turned  upon  it  than  upon  any  other  place  in  the 
world.  Many  thousands  of  men  were  dying  in  an 
attempt  to  reach  this  small  Virginia  city,  and  many 
other  thousands  were  dying  in  an  equally  strenuous 
effort  to  keep  them  away. 

Such  thoughts,  however,  did  not  worry  Prescott  at 
this  moment.  His  face  was  set  resolutely  toward  the 
bright  side  of  life,  which  is  really  half  the  battle,  and 
neither  the  damp  nor  the  cold  was  able  to  take  from 
him  the  good  spirits  that  were  his  greatest  treasure. 
Coming  from  the  bare  life  of  a  camp  and  the  somber 
scenes  of  battlefields,  he  seemed  to  have  plunged  into 
a  very  whirlwind  of  gaiety,  and  his  eyes  sparkled 
with  appreciation.  He  did  not  notice  then  that  his 
captain's  uniform  was  stained  and  threadbare  enough 
to  make  him  a  most  disreputable  figure  in  a  drawing- 
room,  however  gallant  he  might  appear  at  the  head 
of  a  forlorn  hope. 

The  street  was  crowded,  the  pressure  of  the  armies 
having  driven  much  of  the  life  of  the  country  into  the 
city,  and  Prescott  saw  men,  women  and  children 
passing,  some  in  rich  and  some  in  poor  attire.  He 
saw  ladies,  both  young  and  old,  bearing  in  their 
cheeks  a  faint,  delicate  bloom,  the  mark  of  the  South, 
and  he  heard  them  as  they  spoke  to  each  other  in  their 
soft,  drawling  voices,  which  reminded  him  of  the 
waters  of  a  little  brook  falling  over  a  precipice  six 
inches  hi^h. 

It  is  said  that  soldiers,  after  spending  a  year  or  two 
in  the  serious  business  of  slaying  each  other,  look  upon 


6  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

a  woman  as  one  would  regard  a  divinity — a  being  to  be 
approached  with  awe  and  respect ;  and  such  emotions 
sprang  into  the  heart  of  Prescott  when  he  glanced 
into  feminine  faces,  especially  youthful  ones. 
Becoming  suddenly  conscious  of  his  rusty  apparel 
and  appearance,  he  looked  about  him  in  alarm.  Other 
soldiers  were  passing,  some  fresh  and  trim,  some 
rusty  as  himself,  but  a  great  percentage  of  both  had 
bandaged  limbs  or  bodies,  and  he  found  no  consola- 
tion in  such  company,  wishing  to  appear  well,  irre- 
spective of  others. 

He  noticed  many  red  flags  along  the  street  and  heard 
men  calling  upon  the  people  in  loud,  strident  voices  to 
come  and  buy.  At  other  places  the  grateful  glow  of 
coal  fires  shone  from  half-opened  doorways,  and  the 
faint  but  positive  click  of  ivory  chips  told  that 
games  of  chance  were  in  progress. 

"Half  the  population  is  either  buying  something 
or  losing  something,"  he  said  to  himself. 

A  shout  of  laughter  came  from  one  of  the  open 
doorways  beyond  which  men  were  staking  their 
money,  and  a  voice,  somewhat  the  worse  for  a  liquid 
not  water,  sang: 

"  Little  McClellan  sat  eating  a  melon 
The  Chickahominy  by ; 
He  stuck  in  his  spade, 
Then  a  long  while  delayed, 
And  cried:  '  What  a  brave  general  am  I ! "" 

"I'll  wager  that  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  driving 
^ack  McClellan,"  thought  Prescott,  and  then  his 
mind  turned  to  that  worn  army  by  the  Rapidan, 
fighting  with  such  endurance,  while  others  lived  in  fat 
ease  here  in  Richmond. 

Half  a  dozen  men,  English  in  face  and  manner  and 
rolling  in  their  walk  like  sailors,  passed  him.  He 
recognized  them  at  once  as  blockade  runners  who  had 
probably  come  up  from  Wilmington  to  sell  their 
goods  for  a  better  price  at  the  capital.  While  won- 
dering what  they  had  brought,  his  attention  was 
distracted  by  one  of  the  auctioneers,  a  large  man 
with  a  red  face  and  tireless  voice. 


A  WOMAN   IN   BROWN  7 

"Come  buy!  Come  buy!"  he  cried.  "See  this 
beautiful  new  uniform  of  the  finest  gray,  a  sample  of  a 
cargo  made  in  England  and  brought  over  five  days 
ago  on  a  blockade  runner  to  Wilmington. " 

Looking  around  in  search  of  a  possible  purchaser, 
his  eye  caught  Prescott. 

"This  will  just  suit  you,"  he  said.  "A  change  of 
a  strap  or  two  and  it  will  do  for  either  captain  or 
lieutenant.  What  a  figure  you  will  be  in  this  uniform  ! 
Then  he  leaned  over  and  said  persuasively :  "  Better 
buy  it,  my  boy.  Take  the  advice  of  a  man  of  experi- 
ence. Clothes  are  half  the  battle.  They  may  not  be 
so  on  the  firing  line,  but  they  are  here  in  Richmond. " 

Prescott  looked  longingly  at  the  uniform  which  in 
colour  and  texture  was  all  that  the  auctioneer  claimed, 
and  fingered  a  small  package  of  gold  in  his  pocket. 
At  that  moment  some  one  bid  fifty  dollars,  and 
Prescott  surveyed  him  with  interest. 

The  speaker  was  a  man  of  his  own  age,  but  shorter 
and  darker,  with  a  hawk-like  face  softened  by  black 
eyes  with  a  faintly  humourous  twinkle  lurking  in  the 
corner  of  each.  He  seemed  distinctly  good-natured, 
but  competition  stirred  Prescott  and  he  offered  sixty 
dollars.  The  other  man  hesitated,  and  the  auctioneer, 
who  seemed  to  know  him,  asked  him  to  bid  up. 

"This  uniform  is  worth  a  hundred  dollars  if  it's 
worth  a  cent,  Mr.  Talbot,"  he  said. 

"I'll  give  you  seventy-five  dollars  cash  or  five 
hundred  on  a  credit,"  said  Talbot;  "now  which  will 
you  take?" 

"  If  I  had  to  take  either  I'd  take  the  seventy-five 
dollars  cash,  and  I'd  be  mighty  quick  about  making 
a  choice, "  replied  the  auctioneer. 

Talbot  turned  to  Prescott  and  regarded  him  atten- 
tively for  a  moment  or  two.  Then  he  said: 

"  You  look  like  a  good  fellow,  and  we're  about  the 
same  size.  Now,  I  haven't  a  hundred  dollars  in  gold, 
and  I  doubt  whether  you  have.  Suppose  we  buy  this 
uniform  together,  and  take  turns  in  wearing  it. " 

Prescott  laughed,  but  he  saw  that  the  proposition 
was  made  in  entire  good  faith,  and  he  liked  the  face 
of  the  man  whom  the  auctioneer  had  called  Talbot. 


8  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"I  won't  do  that,"  he  replied,  "because  I  have 
more  money  than  you  think.  I'll  buy  this  and  I'll 
lend  you  enough  to  help  you  in  buying  another." 

Friendships  are  quickly  formed  in  war  time,  and  the 
offer  was  accepted  at  once.  The  uniforms  were  pur- 
chased and  the  two  young  men  strolled  on  together, 
each  carrying  a  precious  burden  under  his  arm. 

"My  name  is  Talbot,  Thomas  Talbot,"  said  the 
stranger.  "I'm  a  lieutenant  and  I've  had  more  than 
two  years'  service  in  the  West.  I  was  in  that  charge 
at  Chickamauga  when  General  Cheatham,  leading  us 
on,  shouted:  'Boys,  give  'em  hell';  and  General 
Polk,  who  had  been  a  bishop  and  couldn't  swear, 
looked  at  us  and  said :  'Boys,  do  as  General  Cheatham 
says !'  Well,  I  got  a  bad  wound  in  the  shoulder 
there,  and  I've  been  invalided  since  in  Richmond, 
but  I'm  soon  going  to  join  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia." 

Talbot  talked  on  and  Prescott  found  him  enter- 
taining, as  he  was  a  man  who  saw  the  humourous 
side  of  things,  and  his  speech,  being  spontaneous,  was 
interesting. 

The  day  grew  darker  and  colder.  Heavy  clouds 
shut  out  the  sun  and  the  rain  began  to  fall.  The 
people  fled  from  the  streets,  and  the  two  officers 
shivered  in  their  uniforms.  The  wind  rose  and 
whipped  the  rain  into  their  faces.  Its  touch  was 
like  ice. 

"Come  in  here  and  wait  till  the  storm  passes,"  said 
Talbot,  taking  his  new  friend  by  the  arm  and  pulling 
him  through  an  open  door.  Prescott  now  heard 
more  distinctly  than  ever  the  light  click  of  ivory 
chips,  mingled  with  the  sound  of  many  voices  in  a 
high  or  low  key,  and  the  soft  movement  of  feet  on 
thick  carpets.  Without  taking  much  thought,  he 
followed  his  new  friend  down  a  short  and  narrow 
hall,  at  the  end  of  which  they  entered  a  large,  luxurious 
room,  well  lighted  and  filled  with  people. 

"Yes,  it's  a  gambling  room— The  Nonpareil— and 
there  are  plenty  more  like  it  in  Richmond,  I  can  tell 
you,  '  said  Talbot.  "Those  who  follow  war  must 
have  various  kinds  of  excitement.  Besides  nothing 


A  WOMAN   IN   BROWN  9 

is  so  bad  that  it  does  not  have  its  redeeming  point, 
and  these  places,  without  pay,  have  cared  for  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  our  wounded." 

Prescott  had  another  errand  upon  which  his 
conscience  bade  him  hasten,  but  casting  one  glance 
through  the  window  he  saw  the  soaking  streets  and 
the  increasing  rain,  swept  in  wild  gusts  by  the  fierce 
wind.  Then  the  warmth  and  light  of  the  place,  the 
hum  of  talk  and  perhaps  the  spirit  of  youth  infolded 
him  and  he  stayed. 

There  were  thirty  or  forty  men  in  the  room,  some 
civilians  and  others  soldiers,  two  bearing  upon  their 
shoulders  the  stripes  of  a  general.  Four  carried  their 
arms  in  slings  and  three  had  crutches  beside  their 
chairs.  One  of  the  generals  was  not  over  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  but  this  war  furnished  younger 
generals  than  he,  men  who  won  their  rank  by  sheer 
hard  service  on  great  battlefields. 

The  majority  of  the  men  were  playing  faro,  roulette 
or  keno,  and  the  others  sat  in  softly  upholstered 
chairs  and  talked.  Liquors  were  served  from  a  bar 
in  the  corner,  where  dozens  of  brightly  polished 
glasses  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  glittered  on  marble 
and  reflected  the  light  of  the  gas  in  vivid  colours. 

Prescott 's  mind  traveled  back  to  long,  lonely 
watches  in  the  dark  forest  under  snow  and  rain,  in 
front  of  the  enemy's  outposts,  and  he  admitted 
that  while  the  present  might  be  very  wicked  it 
was  also  very  pleasant. 

He  gave  himself  up  for  a  little  while  to  the  indul- 
gence of  his  physical  senses,  and  then  began  to  examine 
those  in  the  room,  his  eyes  soon  resting  upon  the  one 
who  was  most  striking  in  appearance.  It  was  a 
time  of  young  men,  and  this  stranger  was  young  like 
most  of  the  others,  perhaps  under  twenty-five.  He 
was  of  middle  height,  very  thick  and  broad,  and  his 
frame  gave  the  impression  of  great  muscular  strength 
and  endurance.  A  powerful  neck  supported  a  great 
head  surmounted  by  a  crop  of  hair  like  a  lion's  mane. 
His  complexion  was  as  delicate  as  a  woman's,  but  his 
pale  blue  eyes  were  bent  close  to  the  table  as  he 
wagered  his  money  with  an  almost  painful  intent  ness, 


io  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

and  Prescott  saw  that  the  gaming  madness  was 
upon  him. 

Talbot's  eyes  followed  Prescott 's  and  he  smiled. 

"I  don't  wonder  that  you  are  looking  at  Raymond," 
he  said.  "He  is  sure  to  attract  attention  anywhere. 
You  are  beholding  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
the  South  has  produced." 

Prescott  recognized  the  name  as  that  of  the  editor 
of  the  Patriot,  a  little  newspaper  published  on  a  press 
traveling  in  a  wagon  with  the  Western  army  until 
a  month  since,  when  it  had  come  over  to  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia.  The  Patriot  was  "little"  only  in 
size.  The  wit,  humour,  terseness,  spontaneous  power 
of  expression,  and  above  all  of  phrase-making,  which 
its  youthful  editor  showed  in  its  columns,  already  had 
made  Raymond  a  power  in  the  Confederacy,  as  they 
were  destined  in  his  maturity  to  win  him  fame  in  a 
reunited  nation. 

"He's  a  great  gamester  and  thinks  that  he's  a 
master  of  chance,"  said  Talbot,  "but  as  a  matter 
of  fact  he  always  loses.  See  how  fast  his  pile  of 
money  is  diminishing.  It  will  soon  be  gone,  but  he 
will  find  another  resource.  You  watch  him." 

Prescott  did  not  need  the  advice,  as  his  attention 
was  already  concentrated  on  Raymond's  broad, 
massive  jaw  and  the  aggressive  curve  of  his  strong 
face.  His  movements  were  quick  and  nervous;  face 
and  figure  alike  expressed  the  most  absolute  self- 
confidence.  Prescott  wondered  if  this  self-confidence 
did  not  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  success,  military,  literary, 
mercantile  or  other,  enabling  one's  triumphs  to  cover 
up  his  failures  and  make  the  people  remember  only 
the  former. 

Raymond  continued  to  lose,  and  presently,  all  his 
money  being  gone,  he  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets  in 
an  absent-minded  way  for  more,  but  the  hand  came 
forth  empty  from  each  pocket.  He  did  not  hesitate. 

A  man  only  two  or  three  years  older  was  sitting  next 
to  Raymond,  and  he,  too,  was  intent  on  the  game. 
Beside  him  was  a  very  respectable  little  heap  of  gold 
and  notes,  and  Raymond,  reaching  over,  took  half  of 
the  money  and  without  a  word,  putting  it  in  front  of 


A   WOMAN   IN   BROWN  IT 

himself,  went  on  with  his  wagers.  The  second  man 
looked  up  in  surprise,  but  seeing  who  had  robbed  him, 
merely  made  a  wry  face  and  continued  his  game. 
Several  who  had  noticed  the  action  laughed. 

"It's  Raymond's  way,"  said  Talbot.  "I  knew  that 
he  would  do  it.  That's  why  I  told  you  to  watch  him. 
The  other  man  is  Winthrop.  He's  an  editor,  too — 
one  of  our  Richmond  papers.  He  isn't  a  genius  like 
Raymond,  but  he's  a  slashing  writer — loves  to  criti- 
cize anybody  from  the  President  down,  and  he  often 
does  it.  He  belongs  to  the  F.  F.  V.'s  himself,  but  he 
has  no  mercy  on  them — shows  up  all  their  faults. 
While  you  can  say  that  gambling  is  Raymond's 
amusement,  you  may  say  with  equal  truth  that 
dueling  is  Winthrop's." 

"Dueling !"  exclaimed  Prescott  in  surprise.  "Why, 
I  never  saw  a  milder  face  !" 

"Oh,  he  doesn't  fight  duels  from  choice,"  replied 
Talbot.  "It's  because  of  his  newspaper.  He's 
always  criticizing,  and  here  when  a  man  is  criticized 
in  print  he  challenges  the  editor.  And  the  funny 
thing  about  it  is.  that  although  Winthrop  can't  shoot 
or  fence  at  all,  he's  never  been  hurt.  Providence 
protects  him,  I  suppose." 

"Has  he  ever  hit  anybody  ?"  asked  Prescott. 

"Only  once,"  replied  Talbot,  "and  that  was  his 
eleventh  duel  since  the  war  began.  He  shot  his  man 
in  the  shoulder  and  then  jumped  up  and  down  in  his 
pride.  "I  hit  him!  I  hit  him!"  he  cried.  'Yes, 
Winthrop,'  said  his  second,  'some  one  was  bound  to 
get  in  the  way  if  you  kept  on  shooting  long  enough.'  " 

The  place,  with  its  rich  colours,  its  lights  shining 
from  glasses  and  mirrors,  its  mellow  odours  of  liquids 
and  its  softened  sounds  began  to  have  a  soporific 
effect  upon  Prescott,  used  so  Iong4to  the  open  air  and 
untold  hardships.  His  senses  were  pleasantly  lulled, 
and  the  voice  of  his  friend,  whom  he  seemed  now  to 
have  known  for  a  long  time,  came  from  far  away.  He 
could  have  closed  his  eyes  and  gone  to  sleep,  but 
Talbot  talked  on. 

"Here  you  see  the  back  door  of  the  Confederacy," 
he  said.  "You  men  at  the  front  know  nothing.  You 


I2  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

are  merely  righting  to  defend  the  main  entrance. 
But  while  you  are  getting  yourselves  shot  to  pieces 
without  knowing  any  special  reason  why,  all  sorts  of 
people  slip  in  at  this  back  door.  It  is  true  not  only  of 
this  government,  but  also  of  all  others." 

A  middle-aged,  heavy-faced  man  in  a  general's 
uniform  entered  and  began  to  talk  earnestly  to  one 
of  the  other  generals. 

"That  is  General  Markham,"  said  Talbot,  "who  is 
specially  interesting  not  because  of  himself,  but  on 
account  of  his  wife.  She  is  years  younger  than  he, 
and  is  said  to  be  the  most  brilliant  woman  in 
Richmond.  She  has  plans  for  the  General,  but  is 
too  smart  to  say  what  they  are.  I  doubt  whether 
the  General  himself  knows." 

Raymond  and  Winthrop  presently  stopped  playing 
and  Talbot  promptly  introduced  his  new  friend. 

"We  should  know  each  other  since  we  belong  to  the 
same  army,"  said  Raymond.  "You  fight  and  I  write, 
and  I  don't  know  which  of  us  does  the  more  damage ; 
but  the  truth  is,  I've  but  recently  joined  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia.  I've  been  following  the  army 
in  the  West,  but  the  news  didn't  suit  me  there  and 
I've  come  East." 

"I  hope  that  you  have  many  victories  to  chronicle," 
said  Prescott. 

"It's^been  a  long  time  since  there's  been  a  big 
battle,"  resumed  the  editor,  "and  so  I've  come  up  to 
Richmond  to  see  a  little  life." 

He  glanced  about  the  room. 

"And  I  see  it  here,"  he  added.  "I  confess  that  the 
fleshpots  of  Richmond  are  pleasant." 

Then  he  began  to  talk  of  the  life  in  the  capital,  the 
condition  of  the  army  and  the  Confederate  States, 
furnishing  a  continual  surprise  to  Prescott,  who  now 
saw  that  beneath  the  man's  occasional  frivolity  and 
epicurean  tastes  lay  a  mind  of  wonderful  penetration, 
possessing  that  precious  quality  generally  known  as 
insight.  He  revealed  a  minute  knowledge  of  the 
Confederacy  and  its  chieftains,  both  civil  and  military, 
but  he  never  risked  an  opinion  as  to  its  ultimate 
chances  of  success,  although  Prescott  waited  with 


A   WOMAN   IN   BROWN  13 

interest  to  hear  what  he  might  say  upon  this  ques- 
tion, one  that  often  troubled  himself.  But  however 
near  Raymond  might  come  to  the  point,  he  always 
turned  gracefully  away  again. 

They  were  sitting  now  in  a  cheerful  corner  as  they 
talked,  but  at  the  table  nearest  them  was  a  man  of 
forty,  with  immense  square  shoulders,  a  heavy  red 
face  and  an  overbearing  manner.  He  was  playing 
faro  and  losing  steadily,  but  every  time  he  lost  he 
marked  the  moment  with  an  angry  exclamation. 
The  others,  players  and  spectators  alike,  seemed  to 
avoid  him,  and  Winthrop,  who  noticed  Prescott's 
inquiring  glance,  said : 

"That's  Redfield,  a  member  of  our  Congress," 
and  he  named  the  Gulf  State  from  which  RedfieJd 
came.  "He  belonged  to  the  Legislature  of  his  State 
before  the  war,  which  he  advocated  with  all  the 
might  of  his  lungs — no  small  power,  I  assure  you — and 
he  was  leader  in  the  shouting  that  one  Southern 
gentleman  could  whip  five  Yankees.  I  don't  know 
whether  he  means  that  he's  the  Southern  gentle- 
man, as  he's  never  yet  been  on  the  firing  line,  but 
he's  distinguishing  himself  just  now  by  attacking 
General  Lee  for  not  driving  all  the  Yankees  back  to 
Washington." 

Redfield  at  length  left  the  game,  uttering  with  an 
oath  his  opinion  that  fair  play  was  impossible  in  the 
Nonpareil,  and  turned  to  the  £roup  seated  near  him, 
regarding  the  Richmond  editor  with  a  lowering 
brow. 

"I  say,  Winthrop,"  he  cried,  "I've  got  a  bone  to 
pick  with  you.  You've  been  hitting  me  pretty  hard 
in  that  rag  of  yours.  Do  you  know  what  a  public 
man  down  in  the  Gulf  States  does  with  an  editor  who 
attacks  him !  Why,  he  goes  around  to  his  office  and 
cowhides  the  miserable  little  scamp  until  he  can't 
lie  down  comfortably  for  a  month." 

A  slight  pink  tint  appeared  in  the  cheeks  *  of 
Winthrop. 

"I  am  not  well  informed  about  the  custom  in  the 
Gulf  States,  Mr.  Redfield,"  he  said,  "but  here  I  am 
always  at  home  to  my  enemies,  as  you  ought  to  know." 


i4  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Raymond.  "You  two 
can't  fight.  We  can't  afford  to  lose  Redfield.  He's 
going  to  lead  a  brigade  against  the  Yankees,  and  if 
he'll  only  make  one  of  those  fiery  speeches  of  his  it 
will  scare  all  the  blue-backs  out  of  Virginia." 

Redfield's  red  face  flushed  to  a  deeper  hue,  and  he 
regarded  the  speaker  with  aversion,  but  said  nothing 
in  reply,  fearing  Raymond's  sharp  tongue.  Instead, 
he  turned  upon  Prescott,  who  looked  like  a  mild  youth 
fit  to  stand  much  hectoring. 

"You  don't  introduce  me  to  your  new  friend," 
he  said  to  Talbot. 

"Mr.  Redfield,  Captain  Prescott,"  said  Talbot. 
"Mr.  Redfield  is  a  Member  of  Congress  and  Captain 
Prescott  comes  from  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia, 
though  by  way  of  North  Carolina,  where  he  has  been 
recently  on  some  special  duty." 

"Ah,  from  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,"  said 
Redfield  in  a  heavy  growl.  "Then  can  you  tell  me, 
Mr.  Prescott,  why  General  Lee  does  not  drive  the 
Yankees  out  of  Virginia?" 

A  dark  flush  appeared  on  Prescott 's  face.  Usually 
mild,  he  was  not  always  so,  and  he  worshiped 
General  Lee. 

"I  think  it  is  because  he  does  not  have  the  help  of 
men  like  yourself,"  he  replied. 

A  faint  ray  of  a  smile  crossed  the  face  of  Raymond, 
but  the  older  man  was  not  pleased. 

"Do  you  know,  sir,  that  I  belong  to  the  Confederate 
Congress?"  he  exclaimed  angrily;  "and  moreover,  I 
am  a  member  of  the  Military  Committee.  I  have  a 
right  to  ask  these  questions." 

"Then,"  replied  Prescott,  "you  should  know  that  it 
is  your  duty  to  ask  them  of  General  Lee  and  not  of 
me,  a  mere  subaltern." 

"Now,  Mr.  Redfield,"  intervened  Raymond,  "don't 
pick  a  quarrel  with  Captain  Prescott.  If  there's  to  be 
a  duel,  Wmthrop  has  first  claim  on  you,  and  I  insist 
tor  the  honour  of  my  profession  that  he  have  it 
Moreover,  since  he  is  slender  and  you  are  far  from  it 
I  demand  that  he  have  two  shots  to  your  one  as  he 
will  have  at  least  twice  as  much  to  kill  " 


A   WOMAN    IN    BROWN  15 

Redfield  growled  out  other  angry  words,  which 
stopped  under  the  cover  of  his  heavy  mustache,  and 
then  turned  abruptly  away,  leaving  Prescott  in  some 
doubt  as  to  his  personal  courage  but  none  at  all  as 
to  his  ill  will. 

"  It  is  the  misfortune  of  the  South,"  said  Raymond, 
"to  have  such  men  as  that,  who  think  to  settle  public 
questions  by  personal  violence.  They  give  us  a  bad 
name  which  is  not  wholly  undeserved  In  fact, 
personal  violence  is  our  great  sin." 

"And  the  man  has  a  lot  of  power.  That's  the 
worst  of  it,"  added  Talbot.  "The  boys  at  the  front 
are  hauled  around  so  much  by  the  politicians  that  they 
are  losing  confidence  in  everybody  here  in  Richmond. 
Why,  when  President  Davis  himself  came  down  and 
reviewed  us  with  a  great  crowd  of  staff  officers  before 
Missionary  Ridge,  the  boys  all  along  the  line  set 
up  the  cry:  'Give  us  somethin'  to  eat,  Mr.  Jeff; 
give  us  somethin'  to  eat !  We're  hungry !  We're 
hungry  ! '  And  that  may  be  the  reason  why  we  were 
thrashed  so  badly  by  Grant  not  long  after." 

Prescott  saw  that  the  rain  had  almost  ceased,  and 
as  he  suggested  that  he  must  hurry  on.  the  others  rose 
to  go  with  him  from  the  house.  He  left  them  at  the 
next  corner,  glad  to  have  made  such  friends,  and 
quickened  his  footsteps  as  he  continued  alone. 


CHAPTER   II 

A    MAN'S    MOTHER 

It  was  a  modest  house  to  which  Prescott  turned 
his  steps,  built  two  stories  in  height,  of  red  brick,  with 
green  shutters  over  the  windows,  and  in  front  a  little 
brick-floored  portico  supported  on  white  columns  in 
the  Greek  style.  His  heart  gave  a  great  beat  as  he 
noticed  the  open  shutters  and  the  thin  column  of 
smoke  rising  from  the  chimney.  The  servants  at 
least  were  there!  He  had  been  gone  three  years, 
and  three  years  of  war  is  a  long  time  to  one  who  is 
not  yet  twenty-five.  There  was  no  daily  mail  from 
the  battlefield,  and  he  had  feared  that  the  house  would 
be  closed. 

He  lifted  the  brass  knocker  and  struck  but  once. 
That  was  sufficient,  as  before  the  echo  died  his  mother 
herself,  come  before  the  time  set,  opened  the  door. 
Mrs.  Prescott  embraced  her  son,  and  she  was  even 
less  demonstrative  than  himself,  though  he  was  gen- 
erally known  to  his  associates  as  a  reserved  man ;  but 
he  knew  the  depth  of  her  feelings.  One  Northern 
mother  out  of  every  ten  had  a  son  who  never  came 
back,  but  it  was  one  Southern  mother  in  every  three 
who  was  left  to  mourn. 

She  only  said:  "My  son,  I  feared  that  I  should 
never  see  you  again."  Then  she  noticed  the  thin- 
ness of  his  clothing  and  its  dampness.  "Why,  you 
are  cold  and  wet,"  she  added. 

"  I  do  not  feel  so  now,  mother,"  he  replied. 

She  smiled,  and  her  smile  was  that  of  a  young  girl. 
As  she  drew  him  toward  the  fire  in  a  dusky  room  it 
seemed  to  him  that  some  one  else  went  out. 

"I  heard  your  footsteps  on  the  portico,"  she  said. 

"And  you  knew  that  it  was  me,  mother,"  he  inter- 
rupted, as  he  reached  down  and  patted  her  softlv  on 
the  cheek. 

16 


A   MAN'S   MOTHER  17 

He  could  not  remember  the  time  when  he  did  not 
have  a  protecting  feeling  in  the  presence  of  his 
mother — he  was  so  tall  and  large,  and  she  so  small. 
She  scarcely  reached  to  the  top  of  his  shoulder,  and 
even  now,  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  her  cheeks  had  the 
delicate  bloom  and  freshness  of  a  young  girl's. 

"Sit  by  the  fire  here,"  she  said,  as  she  pushed  him 
into  an  armchair  that  she  pulled  directly  in  front  of 
the  grate. 

"  No,  you  must  not  do  that,"  she  added,  taking  the 
poker  from  his  hand.  "  Don't  you  know  that  it  is  a 
delight  for  me  to  wait  upon  you,  my  son  come  from 
the  war!" 

Then  she  prodded  the  coals  until  they  glowed  a 
deep  red  and  the  room  was  suffused  with  generous 
warmth. 

"What  is  this  bundle  that  you  have?"  she  asked, 
taking  it  from  him. 

"A  new  uniform,  mother,  that  I  have  just  bought, 
and  in  which  I  hope  to  do  you  credit." 

She  flitted  about  the  room  attending  to  his  wants, 
bringing  him  a  hot  drink,  and  she  would  listen  to  no 
account  of  himself  until  she  was  sure  that  he  was 
comfortable.  He  followed  her  with  his  eyes,  noting 
how  little  she  had  changed  in  the  three  years  that  had 
seemed  so  long. 

She  was  a  Northern  woman,  of  a  Quaker  family  in 
Philadelphia,  whom  his  father  had  married  very  young 
and  brought  to  live  on  a  great  place  in  Virginia. 
Prescott  always  believed  she  had  never  appre- 
ciated the  fact  that  she  was  entering  a  new  social 
world  when  she  left  Philadelphia;  and  there,  on  the 
estate  of  her  husband,  a  just  and  generous  man,  she 
saw  slavery  under  its  most  favourable  conditions. 
It  must  have  been  on  one  of  their  visits  to  the 
Richmond  house,  perhaps  at  the  slave  market  itself, 
that  she  beheld  the  other  side;  but  this  was  a  subject 
of  which  she  would  never  speak  to  her  son  Robert. 
In  fact,  she  was  silent  about  it  to  all  people,  and  he 
only  knew  that  she  was  not  wholly  like  the  Southern 
women  about  him.  When  the  war  came  she  did  not 
seek  to  persuade  her  son  to  either  side,  but  when  he 


l8  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

made  his  choice  he  was  always  sure  that  he  caused 
her  pain,  though  she  never  said  a  word. 

"Do  you  wear  such  thin  clothing  as  this  out  there 
in  those  cold  forests?"  she  asked,  fingering  his  coat. 

"Mother,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  "this  is  the 
style  now;  the  shops  recommend  it,  and  you  know 
we've  all  heard  that  a  man  had  better  be  dead  than 
out  of  the  style." 

"And  you  have  become  a  great  soldier?"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  fondly. 

He  laughed,  knowing  that  in  any  event  he  would 
seem  great  to  her. 

"Not  great,  mother,"  he  replied;  "but  I  know  that 
I  have  the  confidence  of  General  Lee,  on  whose  staff 
I  serve." 

"A  good  man  and  a  great  one,"  she  said,  clasping 
her  hands  thoughtfully.  "  It  is  a  pity 

She  stopped,  and  her  son  asked : 

"What  is  a  pity,  mother?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  he  knew.  It  was  said  by 
many  that  Lee  hesitated  long  before  he  went  with  his 
State. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "you  must  eat,"  and  she  brought 
him  bread  and  meat  and  coffee,  serving  them  from  a 
little  table  that  she  herself  placed  by  his  side. 

"How  happens  it,  mother,"  he  asked,  "that  this 
food  is  still  warm?  It  must  have  been  hours  since 
you  had  breakfast." 

A  deep  tint  of  red  as  of  a  blush  suffused  her  cheeks, 
and  she  answered  in  a  hesitating  voice : 

"Since  there  was  a  pause  in  the  war,  I  knew  that 
sooner  or  later  you  would  come,  and  I  remember  how 
hungry  you  used  to  be  as  a  growing  boy." 

"And  through  all  these  days  you  have  kept  some- 
thing hot  on  the  fire  for  me,  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice !  " 

She  looked  at  him  and  there  was  a  faint  suspicion 
of  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  yes,  Robert,"  she  replied.  "Now  don't 
scold  me." 

He  had  no  intention  of  scolding  her,  but  his  thought 
was:  "Has  any  other  man  a  mother  like  mine?" 


A   MAN'S   MOTHER  19 

Then  he  corrected  himself;  he  knew  that  there  must 
be  myriads  of  others. 

He  said  nothing  in  reply,  merely  smiling  at  her,  and 
permitted  her  to  do  as  she  would.  She  went  about 
the  room  with  light,  easy  step,  intent  on  her  little 
services. 

She  opened  the  window  shutters  and  the  rich  sun- 
light came  streaming  in,  throwing  a  golden  glow 
across  the  brown  face  of  him  who  had  left  her  a  boy 
and  come  back  a  man.  She  sighed  a  little  as  she 
noticed  how  great  was  the  change,  but  she  hid  the 
sigh  from  her  son. 

"Mother,"  he  asked  presently,  "was  there  not 
some  one  else  in  this  room  when  I  came  in?  The 
light  Aras  faint,  but  I  thought  I  saw  a  shadowy  figure 
disappear." 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "that  was  Helen  Harley. 
She  was  with  me  when  you  came.  She  may  have 
known  your  footstep,  too,  and  if  not,  she  guessed  it 
from  my  face,  so  she  went  out  at  once.  She  did  not 
wish  to  be  a  mere  curious  onlooker  when  a  mother 
was  greeting  her  son,  come  home  after  three  years  in 
the  war." 

"She  must  be  a  woman  now." 

"  She  is  a  woman  full  grown  in  all  respects.  Women 
have  grown  old  fast  in  the  last  three  years.  She  is 
nearly  a  head  taller  than  I." 

"You  have  been  comfortable  here,  mother?"  he 
asked. 

"As  much  so  as  one  can  be  in  such  times,"  she 
replied.  "I  do  not  lack  for  money,  and  whatever 
deprivations  I  endure  are  those  of  the  common  lot — 
and  this  community  of  ill  makes  them  amusing  rather 
than  serious." 

She  rose  and  walked  to  a  door  leading  into  the 
garden. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  return  in  a  few  moments." 

When  she  came  back  she  brought  with  her  a  tall 
young  woman  with  eyes  of  dark  blue  and  hair  of 
brown  shot  with  gold  wherever  the  firelight  fell 
upon  it.  This  girl  showed  a  sinuous  grace  when 


20  BEFORE  .THE   DAWN 

she  walked  and  she  seemed  to  Prescott  singularly 
self-contained. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  at  once  and  took  her  hand  in 
the  usual  Southern  fashion,  making  a  compliment 
upon  her  appearance,  also  in  the  usual  Southern 
fashion.  Then  he  realized  that  she  had  ceased  to  be 
a  little  girl  in  all  other  respects  as  well  as  in  the 
physical. 

"I  have  heard  that  gallantry  in  the  face  of  the 
ladies  as  well  as  of  the  foe  is  part  of  a  soldier's  trade, 
Robert,"  she  replied. 

"And  you  do  not  know  which  requires  the  greater 
daring." 

"But  I  know  which  your  General  ought  to  value 
the  more." 

After  this  she  was  serious.  Neither  of  the  younger 
people  spoke  much,  but  left  the  thread  of  the  talk 
to  Mrs.  Prescott,  who  had  a  great  deal  to  say.  The 
elder  woman,  for  all  her  gentleness  and  apparent 
timidity,  had  a  bold  spirit  that  stood  in  no  awe  of  the 
high  and  mighty.  She  was  full  of  curiosity  about 
the  war  and  plied  her  son  with  questions. 

"We  in  Richmond  know  little  that  is  definite  of  its 
progress,"  she  said.  "The  Government  announces 
victories  and  no  defeats.  But  tell  me,  Robert,  is  it 
true,  as  I  hear,  that  in  the  knapsacks  of  the  slain 
Southern  soldiers  they  find  playing-cards,  and  in 
those  of  the  North,  Bibles?" 

"  If  the  Northern  soldiers  have  Bibles,  they  do  not 
use  them,"  said  Helen. 

"And  if  the  Southern  soldiers  have  playing-cards, 
they  do  use  them,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott. 

Robert  laughed. 

"I  daresay  that  both  sides  use  their  cards  too 
much  and  their  Bibles  too  little,"  he  said. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Robert,"  said  his  mother; 
"such  encounters  between  Helen  and  myself  are  of  a 
daily  occurrence." 

"And  have  not  yet  resulted  in  bloodshed,"  added 
Miss  Harley. 

Prescott  watched  the  girl  while  his  mother  talked, 
and  he  seemed  to  detect  in  her  a  certain  aloofness  as 


A    MAN'S.  MOTHER  ai 

far  as  he  was  concerned,  although  he  was  not  sure  that 
the  impression  was  not  due  to  his  absence  so  long 
from  the  society  of  women.  It  gave  him  a  feeling  of 
shyness  which  he  found  difficult  to  overcome,  and 
which  he  contrasted  in  his  own  mind  with  her  ease 
and  indifference  of  manner. 

When  she  asked  him  of  her  brother,  Colonel  Harley, 
the  brilliant  cavalry  commander,  whose  exploits  were 
recounted  in  Richmond  like  a  romance,  she  showed 
enthusiasm,  her  eyes  kindling  with  fire,  and  her  whole 
face  vivid.  Her  pride  in  her  brother  was  large  and 
she  did  not  seek  to  conceal  it. 

"I  hear  that  he  is  considered  one  of  the  best  calvary 
leaders  of  the  age,"  she  said,  and  she  looked  question- 
in  gly  at  Prescott. 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  he  replied,  but  there  was 
such  a  lack  of  enthusiasm  in  his  own  voice  that  his 
mother  looked  quickly  at  him.  Helen  did  not  notice. 
She  was  happy  to  hear  the  praises  of  her  brother,  and 
she  eagerly  asked  more  questions  about  him — his 
charge  at  this  place,  the  famous  ruse  by  which  he  had 
beaten  the  Yankees  at  that  place,  and  the  esteem  in 
which  he  was  held  by  General  Lee;  all  of  which 
Prescott  answered  readily  and  with  pleasure.  Mrs. 
Prescott  looked  smilingly  at  Miss  Harley. 

"  It  does  not  seem  fair  for  a  girl  to  show  such 
interest  in  a  brother,"  she  said.  "Now,  if  it  were  a 
lover  it  would  be  all  right. " 

"I  have  no  lover,  Mrs.  Prescott,"  replied  Helen,  a 
slight  tint  of  pink  appearing  in  her  cheeks. 

"  It  may  be  so, "  said  the  older  woman,  "  but  others 
are  not  like  you."  Then  after  a  pause  she  sighed 
and  said:  "I  fear  that  the  girls  of  '61  will  show  an 
unusually  large  crop  of  old  maids. " 

She  spoke  half  humourously  of  what  became  in 
reality  a  silent  but  great  tragedy,  especially  in  the 
case  of  the  South. 

The  war  was  prominent  in  the  minds  of  the  two 
women.  Mrs.  Prescott  had  truly  said  that  knowledge 
of  it  in  Richmond  was  vague.  Gettysburg,  it  was  told, 
was  a  great  victory,  the  fruits  of  which  the  Army 
of  Northern  Virginia,  being  so  far  from  its  base,  was 


22  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

unable  to  reap;  moreover,  the  Army  of  the  West 
beyond  a  doubt  had  won  a  great  triumph  at  Chicka- 
mauga,  a  battle  almost  as  bloody  as  Gettysburg,  and 
now  the  Southern  forces  were  merely  taking  a  momen- 
tary rest,  gaining  fresh  vigour  for  victories  greater 
than  any  that  had  gone  before. 

Nevertheless,  there  was  a  feeling  of  depression  over 
Richmond.  Bread  was  higher,  Confederate  money 
was  lower;  the  scarcity  of  all  things  needed  was 
growing;  the  area  of  Southern  territory  had  con- 
tracted, the  Northern  armies  were  coming  nearer 
and  nearer,  and  a  false  note  sometimes  rang  in  the  gay 
life  of  the  capital. 

Prescott  answered  the  women  as  he  best  could, 
and,  though  he  strove  to  keep  a  bold  temper,  a  tone  of 
gloom  like  that  which  afflicted  Richmond  appeared 
now  and  then  in  his  replies.  He  was  sorry  that  they 
should  question  him  so  much  upon  these  subjects. 
He  was  feeling  so  good,  and  it  was  such  a  comfort  to 
be  there  in  Richmond  with  his  own  people  before  a 
warm  fire,  that  the  army  could  be  left  to  take  care 
of  itself  for  awhile.  Nevertheless,  he  understood  their 
anxiety  and  permitted  no  show  of  hesitation  to  appear 
in  his  voice.  Miss  Harley  presently  rose  to  go.  The 
clouds  had  come  again  and  a  soft  snow  was  falling. 

"I  shall  see  you  home,"  said  Prescott  "Mother, 
will  you  lend  me  an  umbrella  ? " 

Mrs.  Prescott  laughed  softly. 

"We  don't  have  umbrellas  in  Richmond  now!" 
she  replied.  "The  Yankees  make  them,  not  we,  and 
they  are  not  selling  to  us  this  year. " 

"Mother,"  said  Prescott,  "if  the  Yankees  ever 
crush  us  it  will  be  because  they  make  things  and  we 
don't.  Their  artillery,  their  rifles,  their  ammunition, 
their  wagons,  their  clothes,  everything  that  they  have 
is  better  than  ours." 

"(  But  their  men  are  not, "  said  Helen,  proudly. 

"Nevertheless,  we  should  have  learned  to  work 
with  our  hands,"  said  Prescott. 

They  slipped  into  the  little  garden ,-now  bleak  with 
winter  waste.  Helen  drew  a  red  cloak  about  her 
shoulders,  which  Prescott  thought  singularly  becom- 


A   MAN'S   MOTHER  23 

ing.  The  snow  was  falling  gently  and  the  frosty  air 
deepened  the  scarlet  in  her  cheeks.  The  Harley 
house  was  only  on  the  other  side  of  the  garden  and 
there  was  a  path  between  the  two.  The  city  was 
now  silent.  Nothing  came  to  their  ears  save  the  ring- 
ing of  a  church  bell. 

"I  suppose  this  does  not  seem  much  like  war  to 
you,"  said  Helen. 

" I  don't  know,"  replied  Robert.  "Just  now  I  am 
engaged  in  escorting  a  very  valuable  convoy  from 
Fort  Prescott  to  Fort  Harley,  and  there  may  be 
raiders. " 

"And  here  may  come  one  now,"  she  responded, 
indicating  a  horseman,  who,  as  he  passed,  looked  with 
admiring  eyes  over  the  fence  that  divided  the  garden 
from  the  sidewalk.  He  was  a  large  man,  his  figure 
hidden  in  a  great  black  cloak  and  his  face  in  a  great 
black  beard  growing  bushy  and  unkempt  up  to  his 
eyes.  A  sword,  notable  for  its  length,  swung  by  his 
side. 

Prescott  raised  his  hand  and  gave  a  salute  which 
was  returned  in  a  careless,  easy  way.  But  the  rider's 
bold  look  of  admiration  still  rested  on  Helen  Harley's 
face,  and  even  after  he  had  gone  on  he  looked  back  to 
see  it. 

"  You  know  him  ? "  asked  Helen  of  Robert. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him  and  so  do  you. " 

"  If  I  know  him  I  am  not  aware  of  it. " 

"  That  is  General  Wood. " 

Helen  looked  again  at  the  big,  slouching  figure 
disappearing  at  the  corner.  The  name  of  Wood  was 
famous  in  the  Confederacy.  The  greatest  of  all  the 
cavalry  commanders  in  a  service  that  had  so  many,  a 
born  military  genius,  he  was  an  illiterate  mountaineer, 
belonging  to  that  despised,  and  often  justly  despised, 
class  known  in  the  South  as  "poor  white  trash." 
But  the  name  of  Wood  was  now  famous  in  every  home 
of  the  revolting  States.  It  was  said  that  he  could 
neither  read  nor  write,  but  his  genius  flamed  up  at 
the  coming  of  war  as  certainly  as  tow  blazes  at  the 
touch  of  fire.  Therefore,  Helen  looked  after  this 
singular  man  with  the  deepest  interest  and  curiosity. 


24  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"And  that  slouching,  awkward  figure  is  the  great 
Wood!"  she  said. 

"He  is  not  more  slouching  and  awkward  than 
Jackson  was. " 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  attack  him, "  she  said  quickly. 

She  had  noticed  Wood's  admiring  glance.  In 
fact,  it  brought  a  tint  of  red  to  her  cheeks,  but  she 
was  not  angry.  They  were  now  at  her  own  door. 

" I  will  not  ask  you  to  come  in, "  she  said,  "because 
I  know  that  your  mother  is  waiting  for  you. " 

"  But  you  will  some  other  time  ? " 

"Yes,  some  other  time." 

When  he  returned  to  his  own  house  Mrs.  Prescott 
looked  at  him  inquiringly  but  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    MOSAIC    CLUB 

Prescott  was  a  staff  officer  and  a  captain,  bearing  a 
report  from  the  Commander  of  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  to  the  President  of  the  Confederacy;  but 
having  been  told  in  advance  that  it  was  perfunctory 
in  its  nature,  and  that  no  haste  was  necessary  in  its 
delivery,  he  waited  until  the  next  morning  before 
seeking  the  White  House,  as  the  residence  of  the 
President  was  familiarly  called  at  Richmond,  in 
imitation  of  Washington.  This  following  of  old 
fashions  and  old  ways  often  struck  Prescott  as  a 
peculiar  fact  in  a  country  that  was  rebelling  against 
them. 

"If  we  succeed  in  establishing  a  new  republic," 
he  said  to  himself,  "it  will  be  exactly  like  the  one 
that  we  quit. " 

He  was  told  at  the  White  House  that  the  President 
was  then  in  conference  with  the  Secretary  of  War 
but  Mr.  Sefton  would  see  him.  He  had  heard  often 
of  Mr.  Sefton,  whose  place  in  the  Government  was 
not  clearly  defined,  but  of  whose  influence  there  was 
no  doubt.  He  was  usually  known  as  the  Secretary 
"  The  Secretary  of  what  ?  " '  "  The  Secretary  of  every- 
thing,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Sefton  received  Prescott  in  a  large  dark  room 
that  looked  like  a  workshop.  Papers  covered  the 
tables  and  others  were  lying  on  the  floor,  indicating 
the  office  of  a  man  who  worked.  The  Secretary 
himself  was  standing  in  the  darkest  corner — a  thin, 
dark,  rather  small  man  of  about  forty,  one  who 
seemed  to  be  of  a  nervous  temperament  ruled  by  a 
strong  will. 

Prescott  remembered  afterward  that  throughout 
the  interview  the  Secretary  remained  in  the  shadow 


26  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

and  he  was  never  once  able  to  gain  a  clear  view  of  his 
face.  He  found  soon  that  Mr.  Sefton,  a  remarkable 
man  in  all  respects,  habitually  wore  a  mask,  of  which 
the  mere  shadow  in  a  room  was  the  least  part. 

Prescott  gave  his  report,  and  the  Secretary,  after 
reading  it  attentively,  said  in  a  singularly  soft  voice: 

"  I  have  heard  of  you,  Captain  Prescott.  I  believe 
that  you  distinguished  yourself  in  the  great  charge 
at  Gettysburg?" 

"Not  more  than  five  thousand  others." 

"At  least  you  came  out  of  the  charge  alive,  and 
certainly  five  thousand  did  not  do  that. " 

Prescott  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  Did  he  mean 
to  cast  some  slur  upon  his  conduct  ?  He  was  sorry  he 
could  not  see  the  Secretary's  face  more  clearly,  and 
he  was  anxious  also  to  be  gone.  But  the  great  man 
seemed  to  have  another  object  in  view. 

"I  hear  that  there  is  much  discontent  among  the 
soldiers,"  said  Mr.  Sefton  in  a  gentle,  sympathetic 
voice.  "They  complain  that  we  should  send  them 
supplies  and  reinforcements,  do  they  not?" 

"I  believe  I  have  heard  such  things  said,"  reluc- 
tantly admitted  Prescott. 

"Then  I  have  not  been  misinformed.  This  illus- 
trates, Captain,  the  lack  of  serious  reflection  among 
the  soldiers.  A  soldier  feels  hungry.  He  wants  a 
beefsteak,  soft  bread  and  a  pot  of  coffee.  He  does 
not  see  them  and  at  once  he  is  angry.  He  waves  his 
hand  and  says:  'Why  are  they  not  here  for  me?' 
The  Government  does  not  own  the  secret  of  Arabian 
magic.  We  cannot  create  something  where  nothing 
is." 

Prescott  felt  the  Secretary  gazing  at  him  as  if  he 
alone  were  to  blame  for  this  state  of  affairs.  Then 
the  door  opened  suddenly  and  several  men  entered. 
One,  tall,  thin  and  severe  of  countenance,  the  typical 
Southern  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  Prescott 
recognized  at  once  as  the  President  of  the  Confederacy. 
The  others  he  inferred  were  members  of  his  Cabinet, 
and  he  rose  respectfully,  imitating  the  example  of 
Mr.  Sefton,  but  he  did  not  fail  to  notice  that  the  men 
seemed  to  be  disturbed. 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  27 

"A  messenger  from  General  Lee,  Mr.  President," 
said  Mr.  Sefton,  in  his  smooth  voice.  "He  repeats 
his  request  for  reinforcements." 

The  worried  look  of  the  President  increased.  He 
ran  his  hand  across  his  brow. 

"  I  cannot  furnish  them, "  he  said.  "  It  is  no  use 
to  send  any  more  such  requests  to  me.  Even  the 
conscription  will  not  fill  up  our  armies  unless  we  take 
the  little  boys  from  their  marbles  and  the  grand- 
fathers from  their  chimney-corners.  I  doubt  whether 
it  would  do  so  then. " 

Mr.  Sefton  bowed  respectfully,  but  added  nothing 
to  his  statement. 

"The  price  of  gold  has  gone  up  another  hundred 
points,  Mr.  Sefton,"  said  the  President.  "Our 
credit  in  Europe  has  fallen  in  an  equal  ratio  and  our 
Secretary  of  State  has  found  no  way  to  convince 
foreign  governments  that  they  are  undervaluing  us. " 

Prescott  looked  curiously  at  the  Secretary  of  State 
— it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  seen  him — a 
middle-aged  man  with  broad  features  of  an  Oriental 
cast.  He  it  was  to  whom  many  applied  the  words 
"the  brains  of  the  Confederacy."  Now  he  was  not 
disturbed  by  the  President's  evident  annoyance. 

"  Why  blame  me,  Mr.  President  ? "  he  said.  "  How 
long  has  it  been  since  we  won  a  great  victory  ?  Our 
credit  is  not  maintained  here  in  Richmond  nor  by  our 
agents  in  Europe,  but  on  the  battlefield. " 

Mr.  Sefton  looked  at  Prescott  as  if  to  say:  "Just 
as  I  told  you."  Prescott  thought  it  strange  that 
they  should  speak  so  plainly  before  him,  a  mere 
subordinate,  but  policy  might  be  in  it,  he  con- 
cluded on  second  thought.  They  might  desire  their 
plain  opinion  to  get  back  informally  to  General  Lee. 
There  was  some  further  talk,  all  of  which  they  seemed 
willing  for  him  to  hear,  and  then  they  returned 
to  the  inner  room,  taking  Mr.  Sefton,  who  bade 
Prescott  wait. 

The  Secretary  returned  in  a  half-hour,  and  taking 
Prescott's  arm  with  an  appearance  of  great  familiarity 
and  friendliness,  said: 

"  I  shall  walk  part  of  the  way  with  you,  if  you  will 


28  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

let  me,  Captain  Prescott.  The  President  asks  me  to 
say  to  you  that  you  are  a  gallant  soldier  and  he 
appreciates  your  services.  Therefore,  he  hopes  that 
you  will  greatly  enjoy  your  leave  of  absence  in 
Richmond. " 

Prescott  flushed  with  pleasure.  He  liked  a  com- 
pliment and  did  not  deem  it  ignoble  to  show  his 
pleasure.  He  was  gratified,  too,  at  the  confidence 
that  the  Secretary,  a  man  whose  influence  he  knew 
was  not  exaggerated,  seemed  to  put  in  him,  and  he 
thanked  him  sincerely. 

So  they  walked  arm  in  arm  into  the  street,  and  those 
who  met  them  raised  their  hats  to  the  powerful 
Secretary,  and  incidentally  to  Prescott  also,  because 
he  was  with  Mr.  Sefton. 

"If  we  win,"  said  Mr.  Sefton,  "Richmond  will 
become  a  great  city — one  of  the  world's  capitals.  " 

"Yes — if  we  win,"  replied  Prescott  involuntarily. 

"Why,  you  don't  think  that  we  shall  lose,  do  you  ? " 
asked  the  Secretary  quickly. 

Prescott  was  confused  and  hesitated.  He  regretted 
that  he  had  spoken  any  part  of  his  thoughts,  and  felt 
that  the  admission  had  been  drawn  from  him,  but  now 
thought  it  better  to  be  frank  than  evasive. 

"Napoleon  said  that  Providence  was  on  the  side 
of  the  heaviest  battalions,"  he  replied,  "and  there- 
fore I  hope  ours  will  increase  in  weight  soon." 

The  Secretary  did  not  seem  to  be  offended,  leaning 
rather  to  the  other  side  as  he  commended  the  frank- 
ness of  the  young  Captain's  speech.  Then  he  began 
to  talk  to  him  at  great  length  about  the  army,  its 
condition,  its  prospects  and  the  spirit  of  the  soldiers. 
He  revealed  a  knowledge  of  the  camp  that  surprised 
Prescott  and  aroused  in  him  admiration  mingled  with 
a  lingering  distrust. 

Mr.  Sefton  seemed  to  him  different,  indeed,  from  the 
average  Southerner.  Very  few  Southern  men  at  that 
time  sought  to  conceal  their  feelings .  Whatever  their 
faults  they  were  open,  but  Mr.  Sefton  wore  his  mask 
always.  Prescott 's  mind  went  back  unconsciously 
to  the  stories  he  had  read  of  the  agile  Italian  politicians 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  for  a  moment  paused  at  the 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  29 

doctrine  of  reincarnation.  Then  he  was  ashamed 
of  himself.  He  was  wronging  Mr.  Sefton,  an  able 
man  devoted  to  the  Southern  cause — as  everybody 
said. 

They  stopped  just  in  front  of  Mrs.  Prescott's 
house. 

"You  live  here?"  said  the  Secretary.  "I  know 
your  mother.  I  cannot  go  in,  but  I  thank  you.  And 
Miss  Harley  lives  in  the  next  house.  I  know  her,  too — 
a  spirited  and  beautiful  woman.  Good-day,  Captain 
Prescott;  I  shall  see  you  again  before  you  return  to 
the  army." 

He  left  Prescott  and  walked  back  toward  the  White 
House.  The  young  captain  entered  his  own  home, 
thinking  of  what  he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  the 
impression  remained  that  he  had  given  the  Secretary 
full  information  about  the  army. 

Prescott  received  a  call  the  next  morning  from  his 
new  friend  Talbpt. 

"You  are  invited  to  a  meeting  of  the  Mosaic  Club 
to-night  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Markham,"  he  said. 

"And  what  is  the  Mosaic  Club?"  asked  Prescott. 

"The  Mosaic  is  a  club  without  organization,  by-laws 
or  members!"  replied  Talbot.  "It's  just  the  choice 
and  congenial  spirits  of  Richmond  who  have  got  into 
the  habit  of  meeting  at  one  another's  houses.  They're 
worth  knowing,  particularly  Mrs.  Markham,  the 
hostess  to-night.  She  heard  of  you  and  told  me  to 
invite  you.  Didn't  write  you  a  note — stationery's 
too  high." 

Prescott  looked  doubtfully  at  his  mother. 

"Why,  of  course  you'll  go,"  she  said.  "You  did  not 
come  home  to  sit  here  all  the  time.  I  would  not  have 
you  do  that." 

Talbot  called  for  him  shortly  after  dusk  and  the 
two  strolled  together  toward  the  street  where  the 
Markham  residence  stood. 

"Richmond  is  to  be  a  great  capital  some  day,"  said 
Talbot  as  they  walked  on,  "but,  if  I  may  use  the  simile, 
it's  a  little  ragged  and  out-at-elbows  now." 

This  criticism  was  drawn  from  him  by  a  misstep 
into  the  mud,  but  he  quickly  regained  the  ill-paved 


3o  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

sidewalk  and  continued  his  course  with  unbroken 
cheerfulness.  The  night  was  dark,  the  few  and 
widely  scattered  street  lamps  burned  dimly,  and  the 
city  loomed  through  the  dusk,  misshapen  and  obscure. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Talbot,  "I  begin  to  believe 
that  Richmond  wouldn't  amount  to  much  of  a  town 
in  the  North?" 

"It  would  not,"  replied  Prescott;  but  we  of  the 
South  are  agricultural  people.^  Our  pride  is  in  the 
country  rather  than  the  towns." 

A  cheerful  light  shone  from  the  windows  of  the 
Markham  house  as  they  approached  it.  When  they 
knocked  at  the  door  it  was  opened  by  a  coloured 
servant,  and  they  passed  into  a  large  room,  already 
full  of  people  who  were  talking  and  laughing  as  if  they 
had  known  one  another  all  their  lives.  Prescott 's 
first  glimpse  was  of  Helen  Harley  in  a  flowered  silk 
dress,  and  he  felt  a  thrill  of  gladness.  Then  he  was 
presented  to  his  hostess,  Mrs.  Markham,  a  small 
woman,  very  blonde,  bright  in  attire  and  wearing 
fine  jewels.  She  was  handsome,  with  keen  features 
and  brilliant  eyes. 

"You  are  from  General  Lee's  camp,"  she  said,  "and 
it  is  a  Yankee  bullet  that  has  enabled  you  to  come 
here.  If  it  were  not  for  those  Yankee  bullets  we 
should  never  see  our  brave  young  officers;  so  it's  an 
ill  ball  that  brings  nobody  good." 

She  smiled  into  his  eyes,  and  her  expression  was  one 
of  such  great  friendliness  and  candour  that  Prescott 
liked  her  at  once.  She  held  him  and  Talbot  a  few 
moments  longer  with  light  talk,  and  then  he  passed 
on. 

It  was  a  large  room,  of  much  width  and  greater 
length,  containing  heavy  mahogany  furniture,  while 
the  floor  was  carpeted  in  dark  colours.  The  whole 
effect  would  have  been  somber  without  the  presence 
of  so  many  people,  mostly  young,  and  the  cheerful 
fire  in  the  grate  glowing  redly  across  the  shades  of  the 
carpet. 

There  were  a  half-dozen  men,  some  in  uniform  and 
some  in  civilian  garb,  around  Helen  Harley,  and 
she  showed  all  a  young  girl's  keen  and  natural  delight 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  31 

in  admiration  and  in  the  easy  flow  of  talk.  Both 
Raymond  and  Winthrop  were  in  the  circle,  and  so 
was  Redfield,  wearing  a  black  frock  coat  of  unusual 
length  and  with  rings  on  his  fingers.  Prescott 
wondered  why  such  a  man  should  be  a  member  of  this 
group,  but  at  that  moment  some  one  dropped  a 
hand  upon  his  shoulder  and,  turning,  he  beheld  the 
tall  figure  of  Colonel  Harley,  Helen's  brother. 

"I,  too,  have  leave  of  absence,  Prescott,"  he  said, 
"and  what  better  could  a  man  do  than  spend  it  in 
Richmond?" 

Harlev  was  a  large,  fair  man,  undeniably  handsome, 
but  with  a  slight  expression  of  weakness  about  the 
mouth.  He  had  earned  his  military  reputation  and 
he  visibly  enjoyed  it. 

"Where  could  one  find  a  more  brilliant  scene  than 
this?"  continued  the  Colonel.  "Ah,  my  boy,  our 
Southern  women  stand  supreme  for  beauty  and  wit !" 

Prescott  had  been  present  before  the  war,  both  in 
his  own  country  and  in  others,  at  occasions  far  larger 
and  far  more  splendid;  but  none  impressed  him  like 
the  present,  with  the  never-failing  contrast  of  camp 
and  battlefield  from  which  he  had  come.  There  was 
in  it,  too,  a  singular  pathos  that  appealed  to  his 
inmost  heart.  Some  of  the  women  wore  dresses  that 
had  belonged  to  their  mothers  in  their  youth,  the 
attire  of  the  men  was  often  strange  and  variegated, 
and  nearly  half  the  officers  present  had  empty  sleeves 
or  bandaged  shoulders.  But  no  one  seemed  to  notice 
these  peculiarities  by  eye  or  speech,  nor  was  their 
gaiety  assumed;  it  was  with  some  the  gradual 
contempt  of  hardship  brought  about  by  use  and  with 
others  the  temporary  rebound  from  long  depression. 

"Come,"  said  Talbot  to  his  friend,  "you  must  meet 
the  celebrities.  Here's  George  Bagby,  our  choicest 
humourist;  Trav.  Daniel,  artist,  poet  and  musician; 
Jim  Pegram,  Innes  Randolph,  and  a  lot  more." 

Prescott  was  introduced  in  turn  to  Richmond's 
most  noted  men  of  wit  and  manners,  the  cream  of  the 
old  South,  and  gradually  all  drew  together  in  one  great 
group.  They  talked  of  many  things,  of  almost  every- 
thing except  the  war,  of  the  news  from  Europe,  of 


32  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

the  books  that  they  had  read—Scott  and  Dickens, 
Thackeray  and  Hugo — and  of  the  music  that  they  had 
heard,  particularly  the  favourite  arias  of  Italian 
opera. 

Mrs.  Markham  and  Miss  Harley  were  twin  stars 
in  this  group,  and  Prescott  could  not  tell  which  had 
the  greater  popularity.  Mrs.  Markham  was  the  more 
worldly  and  perhaps  the  more  accomplished;  but  the 
girl  was  all  youthful  freshness,  and  there  was  about 
her  an  air  of  simplicity  that  the  older  woman  lacked. 

It  gradually  developed  into  a  contest  between 
them,  heightened,  so  it  seemed  to  Prescott,  by  the 
fact  that  Colonel  Harley  was  always  by  the  side  of 
Mrs.  Markham,  and  apparently  made  no  effort  to 
hide'  his  admiration,  while  his  sister  was  seeking 
without  avail  to  draw  him  away.  Prescott  stood 
aside  for  a  few  moments  to  watch  and  then  Raymond 
put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  see  in  Mrs.  Markham  a  very  remarkable 
woman — the  married  belle,"  said  the  editor.  "The 
married  belle,  I  understand,  is  an  established  feature  of 
life  abroad,  but  she  is  as  yet  comparatively  unknown 
in  the  South.  Here  we  put  a  woman  on  the  shelf  at 
twenty — or  at  eighteen  if  she  marries  then,  as  she 
often  does." 

Coffee  and  waffles  were  served  at  ten  o'clock.  Two 
coloured  women  brought  in  the  coffee  and  the  cups 
on  a  tray,  but  the  ladies  themselves  served  it. 

"I  apologize  for  the  coffee,"  said  Mrs.  Markham. 
"I  have  a  suspicion  that  it  is  more  or  less  bean,  but 
the  Yankee  blockading  fleet  is  very  active  and  I  dare 
any  of  you  to  complain." 

"Served  by  your  hand,  the  common  or  field  bean 
becomes  the  finest  mocha,"  said  Mr.  Pegram,  with 
the  ornate  courtesy  of  the  old  South. 

"And  if  any  one  dare  to  intimate  that  it  is  not 
mocha  I  shall  challenge  him  immediately,"  said 
Winthrop. 

"You  will  have  to  use  a  worse  threat  than  that," 
said  Mrs.  Markham.  "I  understand  that  at  your  last 
duel  you  hit  a  negro  plowing  in  a  cornfield  fifty 
yards  from  your  antagonist." 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  33 

"And  scared  the  negro's  mule  half  to  death," 
added  Raymond. 

"But  in  your  cause,  Mrs.  Markham,  I  couldn't 
miss,"  replied  the  gallant  Winthrop,  not  at  all  daunted. 

The  waffles  were  brought  in  hot  from  the  kitchen 
and  eaten  with  the  coffee.  After  the  refreshments 
the  company  began  to  play  "forfeit  essay."  Two 
hats  were  handed  around,  all  drawing  a  question 
from  one  hat  and  a  word  from  the  other.  It  became 
the  duty  of  every  one  to  connect  question  and  word 
by  a  poem,  essay,  song  or  tale  in  time  to  be  recited 
at  the  next  meeting.  Then  they  heard  the  results  of 
the  last  meeting. 

That's  Innes  Randolph  standing  up  there  in  the 
corner  and  getting  ready  to  recite,"  said  Talbot  to 
Prescott.  "He's  one  of  the  cleverest  men  in  the 
South  and  we  ought  to  have  something  good.  He's 
just  drawn  from  one  hat  the  words  '  Daddy  Longlegs' 
and  from  the  other  '  What  sort  of  shoe  was  made  on 
the  last  of  the  Mohicans  ?'  He  says  he  doesn't  ask  to 
wait  until  the  next  meeting,  but  he'll  connect  them 
extempore.  Now  we'll  see  what  he  has  made  out  of 
them." 

Randolph  bowed  to  the  company  with  mock 
humility,  folded  his  hands  across  his  breast  and  recited : 

"  Old  Daddy  Longlegs  was  a  sinner  hoary. 
And  punished  for  his  wickedness  according  to  the  story; 
Between  him  and  the  Indian  shoes  the  likeness  doth  come  in, 
One  made  a  mock  o"  virtue  and  one  a  moccasin." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  quiet 
little  man,  modestly  clad  in  a  civilian's  suit  of  dark 
cloth. 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  said  some  one,  and  immediately 
there  was  a  halt  in  the  talk,  followed  by  a  hush  of 
expectation.  Prescott  noticed  with  interest  that 
the  company  looked  uncomfortable  The  effect  that 
Mr.  Sefton  produced  upon  all  was  precisely  the 
same  as  that  which  he  had  experienced  when  with 
the  Secretary. 

Mr.  Sefton  was  not  abashed.  He  hurried  up  to 
the  hostess  and  said : 


34  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"I  hope  I  am  not  intrusive,  Mrs.  Markham,  but  I 
owed  you  a  call,  and  I  did  not  know  that  your  little 
club  was  in  session.  I  shall  go  in  a  few  minutes." 

Mrs.  Markham  pressed  him  to  stay  and  become  one 
of  them  for  the  evening,  and  her  manner  had  every 
appearance  of  warmth. 

"She  believes  he  came  to  spy  upon  us,"  said  Ray- 
mond, "and  I  am  not  sure  myself  that  he  didn't. 
He  knew  well  enough  the  club  was  meeting  here 
to-night." 

But  the  Secretary  quickly  lulled  the  feelings  of 
doubt  that  existed  in  the  minds  of  the  members  of 
the  Mosaic  Club.  He  yielded  readily  to  the  invitation 
of  Mrs.  Markham  and  then  exerted  himself  to 
please,  showing  a  facile  grace  in  manner  and  speech 
that  soon  made  him  a  welcome  guest.  He  quickly 
drifted  to  the  side  of  Miss  Harley,  and  talked  so 
well  from  the  rich  store  of  his  experience  and 
knowledge  that  her  ear  was  more  for  him  than  for  any 
other. 

"Is  Mr.  Sefton  a  bachelor?"  asked  Prescott  of 
Winthrop. 

Winthrop  looked  at  the  young  Captain  and  laughed. 

"Are  you,  too,  hit  ? "  Winthrop  asked.  "  You  need 
not  flush,  man;  I  have  proposed  to  her  myself  three 
times  and  I've  been  rejected  as  often.  I  expect  to 
repeat  the  unhappy  experience,  as  I  am  growing 
somewhat  used  to  it  now  and  can  stand  it." 

"But  you  have  not  answered  my  question:  is  the 
Secretary  married  ? " 

"Unfortunately,  he  is  not." 

There  was  an  adjoining  room  to  which  the  men  were 
permitted  to  retire  for  a  smoke  if  the  spirit  moved 
them,  and  when  Prescott  entered  it  for  the  first  time 
he  found  it  already  filled,  General  Markham  himself 
presiding.  The  General  was  a  middle-aged  man, 
heavy  and  slow  of  speech,  who  usually  found  the  talk 
of  the  Mosaic  Club  too  nimble  for  his  wits  and  began 
his  devotions  to  tobacco  at  an  early  hour. 

"  Have  a  cigar,  Prescott,"  he  said,  holding  up  a  box. 

"That  looks  like  a  Havana  label  on  the  box," 
replied  Prescott.  "Are  they  genuine?" 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  35 

"They  ought  to  be  genuine  Havanas,"  replied  the 
General.  "  They  cost  me  five  dollars  apiece." 

"Confederate  money,"  added  a  colonel,  Stormont; 
"and  you'll  be  lucky  if  you  get  'em  next  year  for  ten 
dollars  apiece." 

Colonel  Stormont 's  eyes  followed  Prescott's  round 
the  room  and  he  laughed. 

"Yes,  Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  "we  are  a  some- 
what peculiar  company.  There  are  now  fourteen 
men  in  this  room,  but  we  can  muster  among  us  only 
twenty-one  arms  and  twenty-four  legs.  It's  a  sort 
of  general  assembly,  and  I  suppose  we  ought  to  send 
out  a  sergeant-at-arms  for  the  missing  members." 

The  Colonel  touched  his  own  empty  left  sleeve  and 
added:  "  But,  thank  God,  I've  got  my  right  arm  yet, 
and  it's  still  at  the  service  of  the  Confederacy." 

The  Member  of  Congress,  Redfield,  •came  into  the 
room  at  this  moment  and  lighted  a  pipe,  remarking: 

"There  will  be  no  Confederacy,  Colonel,  unless  Lee 
moves  out  and  attacks  the  enemy." 

He  said  this  in  a  belligerent  manner,  his  eyes  half 
closed  and  his  chin  thrust  forward  as  he  puffed  at  his 
pipe. 

An  indignant  flush  swept  over  the  veteran's  face. 

"Is  this  just  a  case  of  thumbs  up  and  thumbs 
down?"  he  asked.  "Is  the  Government  to  have  a 
victory  whenever  it  asks  for  it,  merely  because  it 
does  ask  for  it?" 

Redfield  still  puffed  slowly  and  deliberately  at  his 
pipe,  and  did  not  lower  his  chin  a  fraction  from  its 
aggravating  height. 

"General  Lee  overestimates  the  enemy,"  he  said, 
"and  has  communicated  the  same  tendency  to  all  his 
men.  It's  a  fatal  mistake  in  war;  it's  a  fatal  mistake, 
I  tell  you,  sir.  The  Yankees  fight  poorly." 

The  flush  on  the  face  of  the  Confederate  colonel 
deepened.  He  tapped  his  empty  sleeve  and  looked 
around  at  what  he  called  the  "missing  members." 

"You  are  in  Congress.  Mr.  Redfield,"  he  said.  "  and 
you  have  not  seen  the  Yankees  in  battle.  Only  those 
who  have  not  met  them  on  the  field  say  they  cannot 
fight." 


36  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"I  warn  you  that  I  am  going  to  speak  in  Congress 
on  the  inaction  of  Lee  and  the  general  sloth  of  the 
military  arm ! "  exclaimed  Redfield. 

"But,  Mr.  Redfield,"  said  Prescott,  seeking  to 
soothe  the  Colonel  and  to  still  the  troubled  waters, 
"we  are  outnumbered  by  the  enemy  in  our  front  at 
least  two  to  one,  we  are  half  starved,  and  in  addition 
our  arms  and  equipment  are  much  inferior  to  those  of 
the  Yankees." 

Here  Redfield  burst  into  a  passion.  He  thought 
it  a  monstrous  shame,  he  said,  that  any .  subaltern 
should  talk  at  will  about  the  Southern  Government, 
whether  its  military  or  civil  arm. 

Prescott  flushed  deeply,  but  he  hesitated  for  an 
answer.  His  was  not  a  hot  Southern  temper,  nor  did 
he  wish  to  have  a  quarrel  in  a  club  at  which  he  was 
only  a  guest.*  While  he  sought  the  right  words, 
Winthrop  spoke  for  him. 

"I  think,  Mr.  Redfield,"  said  the  editor,  "that 
criticism  of  the  Government  is  wholly  right  and 
proper.  Moreover,  not  enough  of  it  is  done." 

"You  should  be  careful,  Mr.  Winthrop,  how  far 
you  go,"  replied  Redfield,  "or  you  may  find 
your  printing  presses  destroyed  and  yourself  in 
prison." 

"Which  would  prove  that  instead  of  fighting  for 
freedom  we  are  fighting  for  despotism.  But.  I  am 
not  afraid,"  rejoined  the  editor.  "Moreover,  Mr. 
Redfield,  besides  telling  you  my  opinion  of  you  here, 
I  am  also  perfectly  willing  to  print  it  in  my  paper. 
I  shall  answer  for  all  that  I  say  or  write." 

Raymond  was  sitting  at  a  table  listening,  and  when 
Winthrop  finished  these  words,  spoken  with  much 
fire  and  heat,  he  took  out  a  note-book  and  regarded 
it  gravely. 

"Which  would  make,  according  to  my  entry  here 
— if  Mr.  Redfield  chooses  to  challenge — your  ninth 
duel  for  the  present  season,"  he  said. 

There  was  an  equivocal  smile  on  the  face  of  nearly 
every  one  present  as  they  looked  at  the  Member  of 
Congress  and  awaited  his  reply.  What  that  would 
have  been  they  never  knew,  because  just  at  that 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  37 

moment  entered  Mr.  Sefton,  breathing  peace  and 
good  will.  He  had  heard  the  last  words,  but  he  chose 
to  view  them  in  a  humourous  light.  He  pooh-poohed 
such  folly  as  the  rash  impulses  of  young  men.  He 
was  sure  that  his  friend  Redneld  had  not  meant  to 
cast  any  slur  upon  the  army,  and  he  was  equally  sure 
that  Winthrop,  whose  action  was  right-minded  were 
his  point  of  view  correct,  was  mistaken  as  to  the  mar- 
row of  Redfield's  speech. 

The  Secretary  had  a  peculiarly  persuasive  power 
which  quickly  exerted  its  influence  upon  Winthrop, 
Stormont  and  all  the  others.  Winthrop  was  good- 
natured,  avowing  that  he  had  no  cause  of  quarrel 
with  anybody  if  nobody  had  any  with  him,  and 
Red  field  showed  clearly  his  relief.  It  seemed  to 
Prescott  that  the  Member  of  Congress  had  gone 
further  than  he  intended. 

No  breath  of  these  stormy  airs  was  allowed  to  blow 
from  the  smoking-room  upon  the  ladies,  and  when 
Prescott  presently  rejoined  them  he  found  vivacity 
and  gaiety  still  prevalent.  Prescott 's  gaze  dwelt 
longest  on  Miss  Harley,  who  was  talking  to  the 
Secretary.  He  noted  again  the  look  of  admiration 
in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Sefton,  and  that  feeling  of  jealousy 
which  he  would  not  have  recognized  had  it  not  been 
for  Talbot's  half-jesting  words  returned  to  him.  He 
would  not  deny  to  himself  now  that  Helen  Harley 
attracted  him  with  singular  force.  There  was  about 
her  an  elusive  charm;  perhaps  it  was  the  slight  trace 
of  foreign  look  and  manner  that  added  to  her  Southern 
beauty  a  new  and  piquant  grace. 

Mr.  Sefton  was  talking  in  smooth,  liquid  tones,  and 
the  others  had  drawn  back  a  little  in  deference  to  the 
all-powerful  official,  while  the  girl  was  pleased,  too. 
She  showed  it  in  her  slightly  parted  lips,  her  vivid 
eyes  and  the  keen  attention  with  which  she  listened 
to  all  that  he  said. 

Mrs.  Markham  followed  Prescott's  look.  An 
ironical  smile  trembled  for  a  moment  on  her  lips. 
Then  she  said : 

"The  Secretary,  the  astute  Mr.  Sefton,  is  in  love." 

She  watched  Prescott  keenly  to  notice  the  effect 


38  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

upon  him  of  what  she  said,  but  he  commanded  his 
countenance  and  replied  with  a  pretense  of  indif- 
ference : 

"  I  think  so,  too,  and  I  give  him  the  credit  of  show- 
ing extremely  good  taste." 

Mrs.  Markham  said  no  more  upon  the  subject,  and 
presently  Prescott  asked  of  Miss  Harley  the  privilege  of 
taking  her  home  when  the  club  adjourned,  after  the 
universal  custom  among  the  young  in  Southern  towns. 

"My  shoulder  is  a  little  lame  yet,  but  I  am  sure 
that  I  shall  guard  you  safely  through  the  streets  if 
you  will  only  let  me  try,"  he  added  gallantly. 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you  go,"  she  replied. 

"I  would  lend  you  my  carriage  and  horses,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham,  who  stood  by,  "but  two  of  my  horses 
were  killed  in  front  of  an  artillery  wagon  at  Antietam, 
another  fell  valourously  and  in  like  manner  at 
Gettysburg,  and  the  fourth  is  still  in  service  at  the 
front.  I  am  afraid  I  have  none  left,  but  at  any 
rate  you  are  welcome  to  the  carriage." 

Prescott  laughingly  thanked  her  but  declined. 
The  Secretary  approached  at  that  moment  and  asked 
Miss  Harley  if  he  might  see  her  home. 

"I  have  just  accepted  Captain  Prescott's  escort, 
but  I  thank  you  for  the  honour,  Mr.  Sefton,"  she 
replied. 

Mr.  Sefton  flashed  Prescott  a  single  look,  a 
look  that  the  young  Captain  did  not  like ;  but  it  was 
gone  in  a  moment  like  a  streak  of  summer  lightning, 
and  the  Secretary  was  as  bland  and  smiling  as  ever. 

"Again  do  I  see  that  we  civilians  cannot  compete 
with  the  military,"  he  said. 

"It  was  not  his  shoulder  straps;  he  was  quicker 
than  you,"  said  Mrs.  Markham  with  a  soft  laugh. 

"Then  I  shall  not  be  a  laggard  the  next  time," 
replied  the  Secretary  in  a  meaning  tone. 

The  meeting  of  the  club  came  to  an  end  a  half-hour 
later,  but  first  there  was  a  little  ceremony.  The 
coffee  was  brought  in  for  the  third  and  last  time  and 
all  the  cups  were  filled. 

"To  the  cause!"  said  General  Markham,  the  host. 
"To  the  cause  that  is  not  lost ! " 


THE   MOSAIC  CLUB  39 

"To  the  cause  that  is  right,  the  cause  that  is  not 
lost,"  all  repeated,  and  they  drank  solemnly. 

Prescott's  feelings  as  he  drank  the  toast  were  of  a 
curiously  mingled  nature.  There  was  a  mist  in  his 
eyes  as  he  looked  upon  this  gathering  of  women  and 
one-armed  men  all  turning  so  brave  a  face  and  so  bold 
a  heart  to  bad  fortune.  And  he  wished,  too,  that  he 
could  believe  as  firmly  as  they  in  the  justice  of  the 
cause.  The  recurring  doubts  troubled  him.  But  he 
drank  the  toast  and  then  prepared  for  departure. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    SECRETARY    MOVES 

Nearly  all  the  guests  left  the  Markham  house  at 
the  same  time  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  the 
white  Greek  portico,  bidding  one  another  good- 
night. It  seemed  to  Prescott  that  it  was  a  sort  of 
family  parting. 

The  last  good-by  said,  Robert  and  Helen  started 
down  the  street,  toward  the  Harley  home  six  or  seven 
blocks  away.  Her  gloved  hand  rested  lightly  on  his 
arm,  but  her  face  was  hidden  from  him  by  a  red 
hood.  The  cold  wind  was  still  blustering  mightily 
about  the  little  city  and  she  walked  close  beside  him. 

"I  cannot  help  thinking  at  this  moment  of  your 
army.  Which  way  does  it  lie,  Robert  ?"  she  asked. 

"Off  there,"  he  replied,  and  he  pointed  northward. 

"And  the  Northern  army  is  there,  too.  And 
Washington  itself  is  only  two  hundred  miles  away 
It  seems  to  me  sometimes  that  the  armies  have 
always  been  there.  This  war  is  so  long.  I  remember 
I  was  a  child  when  it  began,  and  now " 

She  paused,  but  Prescott  added : 

"It  began  only  three  years  ago." 

"A  long  three  years.  Sometimes  when  I  look 
toward  the  North,  where  Washington  lies,  I  begin 
to  wonder  about  Lincoln.  I  hear  bad  things  spoken 
of  him  here,  and  then  there  are  others  who  say  he  is 
not  bad." 
.  "The  'others'  are  right,  I  think." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  feel  sorry  for  him, 
such  a  lonely  man  and  so  unhappy,  they  say.  I  wish 
I  knew  all  the  wrong  and  right  of  this  cruel  struggle." 

"It  would  take  the  wisdom  of  the  angels  for  that." 

They  walked  on  a  little  farther  in  silence,  passing 
40 


THE   SECRETARY   MOVES  41 

now  near  the  Capitol  and  its  surrounding  group  of 
structures. 

"What  are  they  doing  these  days  up  there  on 
Shockoe  ?"  asked  Prescott. 

"Congress  is  in  session  and  meets  again  in  the 
morning,  but  I  imagine  it  can 'do  little.  Our  fate 
rests  with  the  armies  and  the  President." 

A  deep  mellow  note  sounded  from  the  hill  and 
swelled  far  over  the  city.  In  the  dead  silence  of  the 
night  it  penetrated  like  a  cannon  shot,  and  the 
echo  seemed  to  Prescott  to  come  back  from  the  far 
forest  and  the  hills  beyond  the  James.  It  was 
quickly  followed  by  another  and  then  others  until 
all  Richmond  was  filled  with  the  sound. 

Prescott  felt  the  hand  upon  his  arm  clasp  him  in 
nervous  alarm. 

"What  does  that  noise  mean  ?"  he  cried. 

"It's  the  Bell  Tower !"  she  cried,  pointing  to  a  dark 
spire-like  structure  on  Shockoe  Hill  in  the  Capitol 
Square. 

"The  Bell  Tower!" 

"Yes;  the  alarm!  The  bell  was  to  be  rung  there 
when  the  Yankees  came  !  Don't  you  hear  it  ?  They 
have  come  !  They  have  come  !" 

The  tramp  of  swift  feet  increased  and  grew  nearer, 
there  was  a  hum,  a  murmur  and  then  a  tumult  in  the 
streets;  shouts  of  men,  the  orders  of  officers  and 
galloping  hoof-beats  mingled;  metal  clanked  against 
metal;  cannon  rumbled  and  their  heavy  iron  wheels 
dashed  sparks  of  fire  from  the  stones  as  they  rushed 
onward.  There  was  a  noise  of  shutters  thrown  back 
and  lights  appeared  at  innumerable  windows.  High 
feminine  voices  shouted  to  each  other  unanswered 
questions.  The  tumult  swelled  to  a  roar,  and  over  it 
all  thundered  the  great  bell,  its  echo  coming  back  in 
regular  vibrations  from  the  hills  and  the  farther  shore 
of  the  river. 

After  the  first  alarm  Helen  was  quiet  and  self- 
contained.  She  had  lived  three  years  amid  war 
and  its  tumults,  and  what  she  saw  now  was  no  more 
than  she  had  trained  herself  to  expect. 

Prescott  drew  her  farther  back  upon  the  sidewalk, 


42  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

out  of  the  way  of  the  cannon  and  the  galloping  cavalry, 
and  he,  too,  waited  quietly  to  see  what  would  happen. 

The  garrison,  except  those  posted  in  the  defenses, 
gathered  about  Capitol  Square,  and  women  and 
children,  roused  from  their  beds,  began  to  throng 
into  the  streets.  The  whole  city  was  now  awake  and 
alight,  and  the  cries  of  "The  Yankees  !  The  Yankees  !" 
increased,  but  Prescott,  hardened  to  alarms  and  to 
using  his  eyes,  saw  no  Yankees.  The  sound  of  scat- 
tered rifle  shots  came  from  a  point  far  to  the  eastward, 
and  he  listened  for  the  report  of  artillery,  but  there 
was  none. 

As  they  stood  waiting  and  listening,  Sefton  and 
Redfield,  who  had  been  walking  home  together,  joined 
them.  The  Secretary  was  keen,  watchful  and  self- 
contained,  but  the  Member  of  Congress  was  red, 
wrathful  and  excited. 

"See  what  your  General  and  your  army  have 
brought  upon  us,"  he  cried,  seizing  Prescott  by 
the  arm.  "While  Lee  and  his  men  are  asleep, 
the  Yankees  have  passed  around  them  and  seized 
Richmond." 

"Take  your  hand  off  my  arm,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Redfield,"  said  Prescott  with  quiet  firmness,  and  the 
other  involuntarily  obeyed. 

"Now,  sir,"  continued  Robert,  "I  have  not  seen 
any  Yankees,  nor  have  you,  nor  do  I  believe  there  is 
a  Yankee  force  of  sufficient  size  to  be  alarming  on 
this  side  of  the  Rapidan." 

"Don't  you  hear  the  bell  ?" 

"Yes,  I  hear  the  bell;  but  General  Lee  is  not  asleep 
nor  are  his  men.  If  they  had  the  habit  of  which  you 
accuse  them  the  Yankee  army  would  have  been  in 
this  city  long  ago." 

Helen's  hand  was  still  lying  on  Prescott's  arm  and 
he  felt  a  grateful  pressure  as  he  spoke.  A  thrill  of 
delight  shot  through  him.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  him 
to  defend  his  beloved  General  anywhere,  but  above 
all  before  her. 

The  forces  of  cavalry,  infantry  and  artillery 
increased  and  were  formed  about  Capitol  Square. 
The  tumult  decreased,  the  cries  of  the  women  and 


THE   SECRETARY   MOVES  43 

children  sank.  Order  reigned,  but  everywhere  there 
was  expectation.  Everybody,  too,  gazed  toward  the 
east  whence  the  sound  of  the  shots  had  come.  But 
the  noise  there  died  and  presently  the  great  bell 
ceased  to  ring. 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  Captain  Prescott,"  said 
the  Secretary;  "I  do  not  see  any  Yankees  and  I  do 
not  believe  any  have  come." 

But  the  Member  of  Congress  would  not  be  con- 
vinced, and  recovering  his  spirit,  he  criticized  the 
army  again.  Prescott  scorned  to  answer,  nor  did 
Helen  or  the  Secretary  speak.  Soon  a  messenger 
galloped  down  the  street  and  told  the  cause  of  the 
alarm.  Some  daring  Yankee  cavalrymen,  a  band  of 
skirmishers  or  scouts,  fifty  or  a  hundred  perhaps, 
coming  by  a  devious  way,  had  approached  the  outer 
defenses  and  fired  a  few  shots  at  long  range.  The 
garrison  replied,  and  then  the  reckless  Yankees 
galloped  away  before  they  could  be  caught. 

"Very  inconsiderate  of  them,"  said  the  Secretary, 
"disturbing  honest  people  on  a  peaceful  night  like 
this.  Why,  it  must  be  at  least  half-past  two  in  the 
morning." 

"You  will  observe,  Mr.  Redfield,"  said  Prescott, 
"that  the  Yankee  army  has  not  got  past  General  Lee, 
and  the  city  will  not  belong  to  the  Yankees  before 
daylight." 

"Not  a  single  Yankee  soldier  ought  to  be  able  to 
come  so  near  to  Richmond,"  said  the  Member  of 
Congress. 

"Why,  this  only  gives  us  a  little  healthy  excite- 
ment, Mr.  Redfield,"  said  the  Secretary,  smoothly; 
"stirs  our  blood,  so  to  speak,  and  teaches  us  to  be 
watchful.  We  really  owe  those  cavalrymen  a  vote 
of  thanks." 

Then  putting  his  hand  on  Redfield 's  arm,  he  drew 
him  away,  first  bidding  Prescott  and  Miss  Harley  a 
courteous  good-night. 

A  few  more  steps  and  they  were  at  Helen's  home. 
Mr.  Harley  himself,  a  tall,  white-haired  man,  with 
a  self-indulgent  face  singularly  like  his  son  Vincent's, 
answered  the  knock,  shielding  from  the  wind  with 


44  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

one  hand  the  flame  of  a  fluttering  candle  held  in  the 
other. 

He  peered  into  the  darkness,  and  Prescott  thought 
that  he  perceived  a  slight  look  of  disappointment  on 
his  face  when  he  saw  who  had  escorted  his  daughter 
home. 

"He  wishes  it  had  been  the  Secretary,"  thought 
Robert. 

"I  was  apprehensive  about  you  for  awhile,  Helen," 
he  said,  "when  I  heard  the  bell  ringing  the  alarm. 
It  was  reported  that  the  Yankees  had  come." 

"They  are  not  here  yet,"  said  Prescott,  "and  we 
believe  it  is  still  a  long  road  to  Richmond." 

As  he  bade  Helen  good-night  at  the  door,  she  urged 
him  not  to  neglect  her  while  he  was  in  the  capital, 
and  her  father  repeated  the  invitation  with  less 
warmth.  Then  the  two  disappeared  within,  the  door 
was  shut  and  Robert  turned  back  into  the  darkness 
and  the  cold. 

His  own  house  was  within  sight,  but  he  had  made 
his  mother  promise  not  to  wait  for  him,  and  he  hoped 
she  was  already  asleep.  Never  had  he  been  more 
wide  awake,  and  knowing  that  he  should  seek  sleep 
in  vain,  he  strolled  down  the  street,  looking  about 
at  the  dim  and  silent  city. 

He  gazed  up  at  the  dark  shaft  of  the  tower  whence 
the-  bell  had  rung  its  warning,  at  the  dusky  mass  of 
the  Capitol,  at  the  spire  of  St.  Paul's,  and  then  down 
at  a  flickering  figure  passing  rapidly  on  the  other  side 
of  the  street.  Robert's  eyes  were  keen,  and  a  soldier's 
life  had  accustomed  him  to  their  use  in  the  darkness. 
He  caught  only  a  glimpse  of  it,  but  was  sure  the  figure 
was  that  of  the  Secretary. 

Though  wondering  what  an  official  high  in  the 
Government  was  about  flitting  through  Richmond 
at  such  an  hour,  he  remembered  philosophically  that 
it  was  none  of  his  business.  Soon  another  man 
appeared,  tall  and  bony,  his  face  almost  hidden  by  a 
thick  black  beard  faintly  touched  with  silver  in  the 
light  of  the  moon.  But  this  person  was  not  shifty  nor 
evasive.  He  stalked  boldly  along,  and  his  heavy 
footsteps  gave  back  a  hard  metallic  ring  as  the  iron- 


THE   SECRETARY   MOVES  45 

plated  heels  of  his  boots  came  heavily  in  contact 
with  the  bricks  of  the  sidewalk. 

Prescott  knew  the  second  figure,  too.  It  was  Wood, 
the  great  cavalryman,  the  fierce,  dark  mountaineer, 
and,  wishing  for  company,  Robert  followed  the 
General,  whom  he  knew  well.  Wood  turned  at  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps  and  welcomed  him. 

"I  don't  like  this  town  nor  its  folks,"  he  said  in  his 
mountain  dialect,  "and  I  ain't  goin*  to  stay  long. 
They  ain't  my  kind  of  people,  Bob." 

"Give  'em  a  chance,  General;  they  are  doing  their 
best." 

"What  the  Gov'ment  ought  to  do,"  said  the 
mountaineer  moodily,  "is  to  get  up  ev'ry  man  there 
is  in  the  country  and  then  hit  hard  at  the  enemy 
and  keep  on  hittin'  until  there  ain't  a  breath  left 
in  him.  But  sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  it's  the 
business  of  gov'ments  in  war  to  keep  their  armies 
from  winnin' !" 

They  were  joined  at  the  corner  by  Talbot,  according 
to  his  wont  brimming  over  with  high  spirits,  and 
Prescott,  on  the  General's  account,  was  glad  they  had 
met  him.  He,  if  anybody,  could  communicate  good 
spirits. 

"General,"  said  the  sanguine  Talbot,  "you  must 
make  the  most  of  the  time.  The  Yankees  may  not 
give  us  another  chance.  Across  yonder,  where  you 
see  that  dim  light  trying  to  shine  through  the  dirty 
window,  Winthrop  is  printing  his  paper,  which  comes 
out  this  morning.  As  he  is  a  critic  of  the  Government, 
I  suggest  that  we  go  over  and  see  the  task  well  done." 

The  proposition  suited  Wood's  mood,  and  Prescott's, 
too,  so  they  took  their  way  without  further  words 
toward  Winthrop's  office,  on  the  second  floor  of  a 
rusty  two-story  frame  building.  Talbot  led  them  up 
a  shabby  staircase  just  broad  enough  for  one,  between 
walls  from  which  the  crude  plastering  had  dropped 
in  spots. 

"Why  are  newspaper  offices  always  so  shabby," 
he  asked.  "I  was  in  New  York  once,  where  there  are 
rich  papers,  but  they  were  just  the  same." 

The  flight  of  steps  led  directly  into  the  editorial 


46  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

room,  where  Winthrop  sat  in  his  shirt  sleeves  at  a 
little  table,  writing.  Raymond,  at  another,  was 
similarly  clad  and  similarly  engaged.  A  huge  stove 
standing  in  the  corner,  and  fed  with  billets  of  wood, 
threw  out  a  grateful  heat.  Sitting  around  it  in  a 
semi-circle  were  four  or  five  men,  including  the 
one-armed  Colonel  Stormont  and  another  man  in 
uniform.  All  were  busy  reading  the  newspaper 
exchanges. 

Winthrop  waved  his  hand  to  the  new  visitors. 

"Be  all  through  in  fifteen  minutes,"  he  said.  "Sit 
down  by  the  stove.  Maybe  you'd  like  to  read  this; 
its  Rhett's  paper." 

He  tossed  them  a  newspaper  and  went  on  with  his 
writing.  The  three  found  seats  on  cane-bottomed 
chairs  or  boxes  and  joined  the  group  around  the 
stove. 

Prescott  glanced  a  moment  at  the  newspaper 
which  Winthrop  had  thrown  to  them.  It  was  a  copy 
of  the  Charleston  Mercury,  conducted  by  the  famous 
secessionist  Rhett,  then  a  member  of  the  Confederate 
Senate,  and  edited  meanwhile  by  his  son.  It  breathed 
much  fire  and  brimstone,  and  called  insistently  for  'a 
quick  defeat  of  the  insolent  North.  He  passed  it  on  to 
his  friends  and*  then  looked  with  more  interest  at  the 
office  and  the  men  about  him.  Everything  was  shabby 
to  the  last  degree.  Old  newspapers  and  scraps  of 
manuscript  littered  the  floor,  cockroaches  crawled 
over  the  desks,  on  the  walls  were  double- page  illustra- 
tions from  Harper's  Weekly  and  Leslie's  Weekly, 
depicting  battle  scenes  in  which  the  frightened 
Southern  soldiers  were  fleeing  like  sheep  before  the 
valiant  sons  of  the  North. 

"It's  all  the  same,  Prescott,"  said  Talbot.  "We 
haven't  any  illustrated  papers,  but  if  we  had  they'd 
show  the  whole  Yankee  army  running  fit  to  break  its 
neck  from  a  single  Southern  regiment." 

General  Wood,  too,  looked  about  with  keen  eyes, 
as  if  uncertain  what  to  do,  but  his  hesitation  did  not 
last  long.  A  piece  of  pine  wood  lay  near  him,  and 
picking  it  up  he  drew  from  under  his  belt  a  great 
keen-bladed  bowie-knife,  with  which  he  began  to 


THE   SECRETARY    MOVES  47 

whittle  long  slender  shavings  that  curled  beautifully; 
then  a  seraphic  smile  of  content  spread  over  his  face. 

Those  who  were  not  reading  drifted  into  a  discus- 
sion on  politics  and  the  war.  The  rumble  of  a  press 
just  starting  to  work  came  from  the  next  room. 
Winthrop  and  Raymond  wrote  on  undisturbed.  The 
General,  still 'whittling  his  pine  stick,  began  to  stare 
curiously  at  them.  At  last  he  said: 

"Wa'al,  if  this  ain't  a  harder  trade  than  fightin', 
I'll  be  darned  1" 

Several  smiled,  but  none  replied  to  the  General's 
comment.  Raymond  presently  finished  his  article, 
threw  it  to  an  ink-blackened  galley-boy  and  came 
over  to  the  stove. 

"You  probably  wonder  what  I  am  doing  here  in 
the  enemy's  camp,"  he  said.  "The  office  of  every 
newspaper  but  my  own  is  the  camp  of  an  enemy,  but 
Winthrop  asked  me  to  help  him  out  to-night  with 
some  pretty  severe  criticism  of  the  Government.  As 
he's  responsible  and  I'm  not,  I've  pitched  into  the 
President,  Cabinet  and  Congress  of  the  Confederate 
States  of  America  at  a  great  rate.  I  don't  know  what 
will  happen  to  him,  because  while  we  are  fighting  for 
freedom  here  we  are  not  fighting  for  the  freedom  of 
the  press.  We  Southerners  like  to  put  in  some  heavy 
licks  for  freedom  and  then  get  something  else.  Maybe 
we're  kin  to  the  old  Puritans." 

They  heard  a  light  step  on  the  stair,  and  the  two 
editors  looked  up  expecting  to  see  some  one  of  the 
ordinary  chance  visitors  to  a  newspaper  office. 
Instead  it  was  the  Secretary,  Mr.  Sefton,  a  concilia- 
tory smile  on  his  face  and  a  hand  outstretched  ready 
for  the  customary  shake. 

"You  are  surprised  to  see  me,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  he 
said,  "but  I  trust  that  I  am  none  the  less  welcome. 
I  am  glad,  too,  to  find  so  many  good  men  whom  I 
know  and  some  of  whom  I  have  met  before  on  this 
very  evening.  Good-evening  to  you  all,  gentlemen." 

He  bowed  to  every  one.  Winthrop  looked  doubt- 
fully at  him  as  if  trying  to  guess  his  business. 

"Anything  private,  Mr.  Sefton?"  he  said  "If  so 
we  can  step  into  the  next  room." 


48  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"Not  at  all!  Not  at  all!"  replied  the  Secretary, 
spreading  out  his  fingers  in  negative  style.  "There 
is  nothing  that  your  friends  need  not  hear,  not  even 
our  great  cavalry  leader,  General  Wood.  I  was 
passing  after  a  late  errand,  and  seeing  your  light  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  might  come  up  to  you  and  speak 
of  some  strange  gossip  that  I  have  been  hearing  in 
Richmond." 

All  now  listened  with  the  keenest  interest.  They 
saw  that  the  wily  Secretary  had  not  come  on  any 
vague  errand  at  that  hour  of  the  morning. 

"  And  may  I  ask  what  is  the  gossip  ?  "  said  Winthrop 
with  a  trace  of  defiance  in  his  tone. 

"  It  was  only  a  trifle,"  replied  the  Secretary  blandly ; 
"but  a  friend  may  serve  a  friend  even  in  the  matter 
of  a  trifle." 

He  paused  and  looked  smilingly  around  the 
expectant  circle.  Winthrop  made  an  impatient 
movement.  He  was  by  nature  one  of  the  most 
humane  and  generous  of  men,  but  fiery  and  touchy 
to  the  last  degree. 

"It  was  merely  this,"  continued  the  Secretary, 
"and  I  really  apologize  for  speaking  of  it  at  all,  as  it 
is  scarcely  any  business  of  mine,  but  they  say  that  you 
are  going  to  print  a  fierce  attack  on  the  Government." 

"What  then?"  asked  Winthrop,  with  increasing 
defiance. 

"I  would  suggest  to  you,  if  you  will  pardon  the 
liberty,  that  you  refrain.  The  Government,  of  which 
I  am  but  a  humble  official,  is  sensitive,  and  it  is,  too, 
a  critical  time.  Just  now  the  Government  needs  all 
the  support  and  confidence  that  it  can  possibly  get. 
If  you  impair  the  public  faith  in  us  how  can  we  accom- 
plish anything?" 

"But  the  newspapers  of  the  North  have  entire 
freedom  of  criticism , ' '  burst  out  Winthrop .  "We  say 
that  the  North  is  not  a  free  country  and  the  South  is. 
Are  we  to  belie  those  words?" 

"  I  think  you  miss  the  point,"  replied  the  Secretary, 
still  speaking  suavely.  "The  Government  does  not 
wish  to  repress  the  freedom  of  the  press  nor  of  any 
individual,  nor  in  fact  have  I  had  any  such  matter  in 


THE   SECRETARY   MOVES  49 

mind  in  giving  you  this  intimation.  I  think  that 
if  you  do  as  I  hear  you  purpose  to  do,  some  rather 
extreme  men  will  be  disposed  to  make  you  trouble. 
Now  there's  Redfield." 

"The  trouble  with  Redfield,"  broke  in  Raymond, 
"  is  that  he  wants  all  the  twenty-four  hours  of  every 
day  for  his  own  talking." 

"True !  true  in  a  sense,"  said  the  Secretary,  "but 
he  is  a  member  of  the  House  Committee  on  Military 
Affairs  and  is  an  influential  man." 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Secretary,"  said  Winthrop, 
"but  the  article  is  already  written." 

A  shade  crossed  the  face  of  Mr.  Sefton. 

"And  as  you  heard,"  continued  Winthrop,  "it 
attacks  the  Government  with  as  much  vigour  as  I 
am  capable  of  putting  into  it.  Here  is  the  paper  now ; 
you  can  read  for  yourself  what  I  have  written." 

The  galley-boy  had  come  in  with  a  half-dozen 
papers  .still  wet  from  the  press.  Winthrop  handed 
one  to  the  Secretary,  indicated  the  editorial  and 
waited  while  Sefton  read  it. 

The  Secretary,  after  the  perusal,  put  down  the 
paper  and  spoke  gently  as  if  he  were  chiding  a  child : 

"I  am  sorry  this  is  published,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  he 
said.  "  It  can  only  stir  up  trouble.  Will  you  permit 
me  to  say  that  I  think  it  indiscreet  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Winthrop.  "You  are 
entitled  to  your  opinion,  and  by  the  same  token  so 
am  I." 

"  I  don't  think  our  Government  will  like  this,"  said 
Mr.  Sefton.  He  tapped  the  newspaper  as  he  spoke 

"I  should  think  it  would  not,"  replied  Winthrop 
with  an  ironical  laugh.  "At  least,  it  was  not  in- 
tended that  way.  But  does  our  Government  expect 
to  make  itself  an  oligarchy  or  despotism?  If 
that  is  so,  I  should  like  to  know  what  we  are  fight- 
ing for?" 

Mr.  Sefton  left  these  questions  unanswered,  but 
continued  to  express  sorrow  over  the  incident.  He 
did  not  mean  to  interfere,  he  said;  he  had  come  with 
the  best  purpose  in  the  world.  He  thought  that  at  this 
stage  of  the  war  all  influences  ought  to  combine  for 


5o  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

the  public  good,  and  also  he  did  not  wish  his  young 
friends  to  suffer  any  personal  inconvenience.  Then 
bowing,  he  went  out,  but  he  took  with  him  a  copy  of 
the  paper. 

"That  visit,  Winthrop,  was  meant  for  a  threat, 
and  nothing  else,"  said  Raymond,  when  he  was  sure 
the  Secretary  was  safely  in  the  street. 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  said  Winthrop,  "but  I  don't  take 
back  a  word." 

They  speculated  on  the  result,  until  General  Wood, 
putting  up  his  knife  and  throwing  down  his  pine  stick, 
drew  an  old  pack  of  cards  from  an  inside  pocket  of 
his  coat. 

"Let's  play  poker  a  little  while,"  he  said.  "It'll 
make  us  think  of  somethin'  else  and  steady  our  nerves. 
Besides,  it's  mighty  good  trainin'  for  a  soldier. 
Poker's  just  like  war — half  the  cards  you've  got,  an' 
half  bluff.  Lee  and  Jackson  are  such  mighty  good 
gen'rals  'cause  they  always  make  the  other  fellow 
think  they've  got  twice  as  many  soldiers  as  they  really 
have." 

Raymond,  an  inveterate  gambler,  at  once  acceded 
to  the  proposition;  Winthrop  and  one  of  the  soldiers 
did  likewise,  and  they  sat  down  to  play.  The  others 
looked  on. 

"Shall  we  make  the  limit  ten  cents  in  coin  or  ten 
dollars  Confederate  money?"  asked  Winthrop. 

"Better  make  it  ten  dollars  Confederate;  we  don't 
want  to  risk  too  much,"  replied  Raymond. 

Soon  they  were  deep  in  the  mysteries  and  fascina- 
tions of  the  game.  Wood  proved  himself  a  consum- 
mate player,  a  master  of  "raise"  and  "bluff,"  but  for 
awhile  the  luck  ran  against  him,  and  he  made  this 
brief  comment: 

"Things  always  run  in  streaks;  don't  matter 
whether  it's  politics,  love,  farmin'  or  war.  They 
don't  travel  alone.  At  Antietam  nearly  half  the 
Yankee  soldiers  we  killed  were  red-headed.  Fact, 
sure ;  but  at  Chancellorsville  I  never  saw  a  single  dead 
Yankee  with  a  red  head." 

The  luck  turned  by  and  by  toward  the  General, 
but  Prescott  thought  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  seeking 


THE   SECRETARY   MOVES  51 

home  and  he  bade  good-night.  Colonel  Stormont 
accompanied  him  as  he  went  down  the  rickety  stairs. 

"Colonel,"  asked  Prescott,  as  they  reached  the 
street,  "who,  in  reality,  is  Mr.  Sefton?" 

"That  is  more  than  any  of  us  can  tell,"  replied  the 
Cqlonel;  "nominally  he  is  at  the  head  of  a  depart- 
ment in  the  Treasury,  but  he  has  acquired  a  great 
influence  in  the  Cabinet — he  is  so  deft  at  the  despatch 
of  business — and  he  is  at  the  White  House  as  much  as 
he  is  anywhere.  He  is  not  a  man  whom  we  can 
ignore." 

Prescott  was  of  that  opinion,  too,  and  when  he  got 
into  his  bed,  not  long  before  the  break  of  day.  he  was 
still  thinking  of  the  bland  Secretary. 


CHAPTER  V 

AN    ELUSIVE    FACE 

Walking  abroad  at  noontime  next  day,  Prescott 
saw  Helen  Harley  coming  toward  Capitol  Square, 
stepping  lightly  through  the  snow,  a  type  of  youthful 
freshness  and  vigour.  The  red  hood  was  again  over 
her  head,  and  a  long  dark  cloak,  the  hem  of  it  almost 
touching  the  snow  fallen  the  night  before,  enclosed 
her  figure. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Soldier,"  she  said  cheerily;  "I 
hope  that  your  dissipations  at  the  Mosaic  Club  have 
not  retarded  the  recovery  of  your  injured  shoulder." 

Prescott  smiled. 

"I  think  not,"  he  replied.  "In  fact,  I've  almost 
forgotten  that  I  have  a  shoulder." 

"Now,  I  can  guess  where  you  are  going,"  she  said. 

"Try  and  see." 

"You  are  on  your  way  to  the  Capitol  to  hear 
Mr.  Redfield  reply  to  that  attack  of  Mr.  Winthrop's, 
and  I'm  going  there,  too." 

So  they  walked  together  up  the  hill,  pausing  a 
moment  by  the  great  Washington  monument  and  its 
surrounding  groups  of  statuary  where  Mr.  Davis  had 
taken  the  oath  of  office  two  years  before,  and 
Mr.  Sefton,  who  saw  them  from  an  upper  window  of 
that  building,  smiled  sourly. 

The  doors  of  the  Capitol  were  wide  open,  as  they 
always  stood  during  the  sessions  of  Congress,  and 
Robert  and  Helen  passed  into  the  rotunda,  pausing 
a  moment  by  the  Houdon  Washington,  and  then  went 
up  the  steps  to  the  second  floor,  where  they  entered 
the  Senate  Chamber,  now  used  by  the  Confederate 
House  of  Representatives.  The  tones  of  a  loud  and 
tireless  voice  reached  them ;  Mr.  Redfield  was  already 
on  his  feet. 

52 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  53 

The  honourable  member  from  the  Gulf  Coast  had 
risen  on  a  question  of  personal  privilege.  Then  he 
required  the  clerk  of  the  House  to  read  the  offending 
editorial  from  Winthrop's  newspaper,  during  which  he 
stood  haughtily  erect,  his  feet  rather  wide  apart,  his 
arms  folded  indignantly  across  his  breast,  and  a  look 
of  righteous  wrath  on  his  face.  When  the  clerk 
finished,  he  spat  plentifully  in  a  spittoon  at  his  feet, 
cleared  his  throat,  and  let  loose  the  flood  of  rhetoric 
which  was  threatening  already  to  burst  over  the  dam. 

The  blow  aimed  by  that  villainous  writer,  the 
honourable  gentleman  said,  was  struck  at  him.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Committee  on  Military  Affairs, 
and  he  must  reply  ere  the  foul  stain  was  permitted  to 
tarnish  his  name.  He  came  from  a  sunny  land  where 
all  the  women  were  beautiful  and  all  the  men  brave, 
and  he  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than 
permit  any  obscure  ink-slinger  to  impeach  his  fair 
fame.  He  carried  the  honour  of  his  country  in  his 
heart;  he  would  sooner  die  a  thousand  deaths  than 
to  permit — to  permit 

He  paused,  and  waved  his  hand  as  he  sought  for  a 
metaphor  sufficiently  strong- winged. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Redfield,  and  I'll  help  you 
down,"  dryly  said  a  thin-faced  member  from  the 
Valley  of  Virginia. 

The  sound  of  subdued  laughter  arose  and  the 
Speaker  rapped  for  order.  Mr.  Redfield  glared  at 
the  irreverent  member  from  the  Valley  of  Virginia, 
then  resumed  his  interrupted  flight.  Unfortunately 
for  him  the  spell  was  broken.  Some  of  the  members 
began  to  talk  in  low  whispers  and  others  to  read 
documents.  Besides  the  murmur  of  voices  there 
was  a  sound  of  scraping  feet.  But  the  honourable 
member  from  the  sunny  shores  of  the  Gulf  helped 
himself  down,  though  somewhat  angrily,  and  choosing 
a  tamer  course  began  to  come  nearer  to  the  point. 
He  called  for  the  suppression  of  the  offending  news- 
paper and  the  expulsion  of  its  editor  from  the  city. 
He  spoke  of  Winthrop  by  name  and  denounced  him. 
Robert  saw  Mr.  Sefton  appear  upon  the  floor  and  once 
nod  his  head  approvingly  as  Mr.  Redfield  spoke. 


54  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

The  House  now  paid  more  heed,  but  the  dry 
member  from  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  in  reply  to  Mr. 
Redfield,  called  the  attention  of  the  members  to  the 
fact  that  they  could  not  suppress  the  newspapers. 
They  might  deny  its  representatives  the  privileges 
of  the  House,  but  they  could  go  no  further.  He  was 
opposed  to  spreading  the  thing  to  so  great  an  extent, 
as  it  would  be  sure  to  reach  the  North  and  would  be  a 
standing  advertisement  to  the  Yankees  that  the  South 
was  divided  against  itself. 

Then  a  motion  was  made  to  deny  the  privileges  of 
the  House  to  Winthrop,  or  any  representative  of  his 
paper,  but  it  was  defeated  by  a  narrow  margin. 

"That,  I  think,"  said  Robert,  "will  be  the  end  of 
this  affair." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  responded  Helen,  "because  I 
like  Mr.  Winthrop." 

"And,  therefore,  you  believe  everything  he  says  is 
correct?" 

"Yes;  why  not  ?" 

"Women  have  more  personal  loyalty  than  men," 
said  Robert,  not  replying  directly.  "Shall  we  go 
now?"  he  asked  a  moment  later;  "I  think  we  have 
heard  all  of  interest." 

"No,  I  must  stay  a  little,"  she  replied  with  some 
embarrassment.  "The  fact  is — I  am — waiting  to 
see  Mr.  Sefton." 

"To  see  Mr.  Sefton!"  Prescott  could  not  refrain 
from  exclaiming  in  his  surprise. 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  air  half  defiance,  half 
appeal. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "and  my  business  is  of  considerable 
importance  to  me.  You  don't  think  that  a  mere 
woman  can  have  any  business  of  weight  with  so 
influential  a  personage  as  Mr.  Sefton.  You  Southern 
men,  with  all  your  courtesy  and  chivalry,  really 
undervalue  us,  and  therefore  you  are  not  gallant 
at  all." 

Her  defiant  look  and  manner  told  Prescott  that 
she  did  not  wish  him  to  know  the  nature  of  her  busi- 
ness, so  he  made  a  light  answer,  asking  her  if  she  were 
about  to  undertake  the  affairs  of  the  Government. 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  55 

He  had  no  doubt  some  would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of 
them. 

He  excused  himself  presently  and  strolled  into  the 
rotunda,  where  he  gazed  absently  at  the  Washington 
statue  and  the  Lafayette  bust,  although  he  saw 
neither.  Conscious  of  a  feeling  of  jealousy,  he  began 
to  wish  ill  to  the  clever  Secretary.  "What  business 
can  she  have  with  a  man  like  Sefton?"  he  said  to 
himself. 

Passing  out  of  the  rotunda,  he  walked  slowly  down 
the  steps,  and  looking  back  saw  Helen  and  Mr.  Sefton 
in  close  and  earnest  conversation.  Then  he  went  on 
faster  with  increased  ill  temper. 

"I  have  a  piece  of  news  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott 
the  next  morning  to  her  son  at  the  breakfast  table. 

He  looked  at  her  with  inquiring  interest. 

"Helen  Harley  has  gone  to  work,"  she  said. 

"Gone  to  work  !     Mother,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"The  heiress  of  seven  generations  must  work  like 
a  common  Northern  mill-hand  to  support  that 
pompous  old  father  of  hers,  the  heir  of  six  Virginia 
generations,  who  certainly  would  not  work  under  any 
circumstances  to  support  his  daughter." 

"Won't  you  explain  yourself  more  clearly,  mother  ?" 

"It's  this.  The  Harleys  are  ruined  by  the  war. 
The  Colonel  is  absorbed  in  his  career  and  spends  all 
his  salary  on  himself.  The  old  gentleman  doesn't 
know  anything  about  his  financial  affairs  and  doesn't 
want  to;  it's  beneath  his  dignity.  Helen,  who  does 
know  about  them,  is  now  earning  the  bread  for  her 
father  and  herself.  Think  of  a  Southern  girl  of  the 
oldest  blood  doing  such  a  thing !  It  is  very  low  and 
degrading,  isn't  it  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  covertly.  A  sudden  thought 
occurred  to  him. 

"No,  mother,"  he  replied.  "It  is  not  low  and 
degrading.  You  think  just  the  contrary,  and  so  do  I. 
Where  has  Helen  gone  to  work?" 

"In  the  Treasury  Department,  under  Mr.  Sefton. 
She  is  copying  documents  there." 

Robert  felt  a  sudden  relief  and  then  alarm  that  she 
should  owe  so  much  to  Sefton. 


56  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"I  understand  that  Harley  senior  stormed  and 
threatened  for  awhile,"  continued  his  mother.  "He 
said  no  female  member  of  his  family  had  ever  worked 
before,  and  he  might  have  added,  few  male  members 
either.  He  said  his  family  would  be  disgraced 
forever  by  the  introduction  of  such  a  low  Yankee 
innovation;  but  Helen  stood  firm,  and,  moreover, 
she  was  urged  by  the  hand  of  necessity.  I  under- 
stand that  she  has  quite  a  good  place  and  her  salary 
is  to  be  paid  in  gold.  She  will  pass  here  every  day 
at  noon,  coming  home  for  her  luncheon." 

Prescott  spent  most  of  the  morning  at  home,  the 
remainder  with  his  new  friends,  wandering  about 
the  city;  but  just  before  noon  he  was  in  front  of  the 
Custom  House,  waiting  by  the  door  through  which 
Helen  must  come.  She  appeared  promptly  at  the 
stroke  of  twelve  and  seemed  surprised  to  see  him 
there. 

"I  came  merely  to  tell  you  how  much  I  admire  your 
resolution,"  he  said.  "I  think  you  are  doing  a  noble 
thing." 

The  colour  in  her  cheeks  deepened  a  little.  He 
knew  he  had  pleased  her. 

"It  required  no  great  amount  of  courage,"  she 
replied,  "for  the  work  is  not  hard  and  Mr.  Sefton 
is  very  kind.  And,  aside  from  the  money  I  am 
happier  here.  Did  you  never  think  how  hard  it  was 
for  women  to  sit  with  their  hands  folded,  waiting  for 
this  war  to  end?" 

"I  have  thought  of  it  more  than  once,"  he  replied. 

"Now  I  feel  that  I  am  a  part  of  the  nation,"  she 
continued,  "not  a  mere  woman  who  does  not  count. 
I  am  working  with  the  others  for  our  success." 

Her  eyes  sparkled  like  the  eyes  of  one  who  has 
taken  a  tonic,  and  she  looked  about  her  defiantly  as  if 
she  would  be  ready  with  a  fitting  reply  to  any  who 
might  dare  to  criticize  her. 

Prescott  liked  best  in  her  this  quality  of  independ- 
ence and  self-reliance,  and  perhaps  her  possession  of 
it  imparted  to  her  that  slight  foreign  air  which  he  so 
often  noticed.  He  thought  the  civilization  of  the 
South  somewhat  debilitating,  so  far  as  women  were 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  57 

concerned.  It  wished  to  divide  the  population  into 
just  two  classes — women  of  beautiful  meekness  and 
men  of  heroic  courage. 

Helen  had  broken  down  an  old  convention,  having 
made  an  attempt  that  few  women  of  her  class  and 
period  would  have  dared,  and  at  a  time,  too,  when  she 
might  have  been  fearful  of  the  results.  She  was 
joyous  as  if  a  burden  had  been  lifted.  Prescott 
rarely  had  seen  her  in  such  spirits.  She,  who  was 
usually  calm  and  grave,  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
the  war.  She  laughed  and  jested  and  saw  good 
humour  in  everything. 

Prescott  could  not  avoid  catching  the  infection 
from  the  woman  whom  he  most  admired.  The 
atmosphere — the  very  air — took  on  an  unusual 
brilliancy.  The  brick  walls  and  the  shingled  roofs 
glittered  in  the  crisp,  wintry  sunshine;  the  school- 
boys, caps  over  their  ears  and  mittens  on  their  fingers, 
played  and  shouted  in  the  streets  just  as  if  peace 
reigned  and  the  cannon  were  not  rumbling  onward 
over  there  beyond  the  trees. 

"Isn't  this  world  beautiful  at  times?"  said  Helen. 

"It  is,"  replied  Robert,  "and  it  seems  all  the  more 
strange  to  me  that  we  should  profane  it  by  war.  But 
here  comes  Mrs.  Markham.  Let  us  see  how  she  will 
greet  you." 

Mrs.  Markham  was  in  a  sort  of  basket  cart  drawn 
by  an  Accomack  pony,  one  of  those  ugly  but  stout 
little  horses  which  do  much  service  in  Virginia  and 
she  was  her  own  driver,  her  firm  white  wrists  showing 
above  her  gloves  as  she  held  the  reins.  She  checked 
her  speed  at  sight  of  Robert  and  Helen  and  stopped 
abreast  of  them. 

"I  was  not  deceiving  you  the  other  night,  Captain 
Prescott,"  she  said,  after  a  cheerful  good-afternoon 
"when  I  told  you  that  all  my  carriage  horses  had  been 
confiscated.  Ben  Butler,  here — I  call  him  Ben  Butler 
because  he  is  low-born  and  has  no  manners — arrived 
only  last  night,  bought  for  me  by  my  husband  with 
a  whole  wheel barrowful  of  Confederate  bills:  is  it 
not  curious  how  we,  who  have  such  confidence  in  our 
Government,  will  not  trust  its  money." 


58  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

She  flicked  Ben  Butler  with  her  whip,  and  the  pony 
reared  and  tried  to  bolt,  but  presently  she  reduced 
him  to  subjection. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  that  he  had  no  manners,"  she 
said.  "Oh,  how  I  wish  I  had  the  real  Ben  Butler 
under  my  hand,  too !  I've  heard  what  you've  done, 
Helen.  But,  tell  me,  is  it  really  true?  Have  you 
actually  gone  to  work— as  a^  clerk  in  an  office,  like  a 
low-born  Northern  woman?" 

The  colour  in  Helen's  cheeks  deepened  and  Robert 
saw  the  faintest  quiver  of  her  lower  lip. 

"It  is  true,"  she  replied.  "I  am  a  secretary  in 
Mr.  Sefton's  office  and  I  get  fifteen  dollars  a  week." 

"Confederate  money?" 

"No,  in  gold  " 

"What  do  you  do  it  for?" 

"For  the  money.     I  need  it." 

Mrs.  Markham  flicked  the  pony's  mane  again  and 
once  more  he  reared,  but,  as  before,  the  strong  hand 
restrained  him. 

"What  you  are  doing  is  right,  Helen,"  she  said. 
"Though  a  Southern  woman,  I  find  our  Southern 
conventions  weigh  heavily  upon  me :  but,"  she  added 
quizzically,  "of  course,  you  understand  that  we 
can't  know  you  socially  now." 

"I  understand,"  said  Helen,  "and  I  don't  ask  it." 

Her  lips  were  pressed  together  with  an  air  of 
defiance  and  there  was  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 

Mrs.  Markham  laughed  long  and  joyously. 

"Why,  you  little  goose,"  she  said,  "I  believe  you 
actually  thought  I  was  in  earnest.  Don't  you  know 
that  we  of  the  Mosaic  Club  and  its  circle  represent 
the  more  advanced  and  liberal  spirit  of  Richmond — 
if  I  do  say  it  myself — and  we  shall  stand  by  you  to  the 
utmost.  I  suspect  that  if  you  were  barred,  others 
would  choose  the  same  bars  for  themselves.  Would 
they  not,  Captain  Prescott  ?" 

"I  certainly  should  consider  myself  included  in  the 
list,"  replied  the  young  man  sturdily. 

"And  doubtless  you  would  have  much  company," 
resumed  she.  "And  now  I  must  be  going.  Ben 
Butler  is  growing  impatient.  He  is  not  accustomed 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  59 

to  good  society,  and  I  must  humour  him  or  he  will 
make  a  scene." 

She  spoke  to  the  horse  and  they  dashed  down  the 
street 

"A  remarkable  woman,"  said  Prescott. 

"Yes;  and  just  now  I  feel  very  grateful  to  her," 
said  Helen. 

They  met  others,  but  not  all  were  so  frank  and 
cordial  as  Mrs.  Markham.  There  was  a  distinct 
chilliness  in  the  manners  of  one,  while  a  second  had  a 
patronizing  air  which  was  equally  offensive.  Helen's 
high  spirits  were  dashed  a  little,  but  Robert  strove 
to  raise  them  again.  He  saw  only  the  humourous 
features  of  such  a  course  on  the  part  of  those  whom 
they  had  encountered,  and  he  exerted  himself  to 
ridicule  it  with  such  good  effect  that  she  laughed 
again,  and  her  happy  mood  was  fully  restored  when  she 
reached  her  own  gate. 

The  next  was  a  festal  day  in  Richmond,  which, 
though  always  threatened  by  fire  and  steel,  was 
not  without  its  times  of  joyousness.  The  famous 
Kentucky  raider,  Gen.  John  H.  Morgan,  had  come  to 
town,  and  all  that  was  best  in  the  capital,  both  military 
and  civil,  would  give  him  welcome  and  do  him  honour. 

The  hum  and  bustle  of  a  crowd  rose  early  in  the 
streets,  and  Prescott,  with  all  the  spirits  of  youth, 
eager  to  see  and  hear  everything  of  moment,  was 
already  with  his  friends,  Talbot,  Raymond  and 
Winthrop. 

"Richmond  knows  how  to  sing  and  dance  even  if 
the  Yankee  army  is  drawing  near.  Who's  afraid !" 
said  Winthrop. 

"I  have  declined  an  honour,"  said  Raymond.  "I 
might  have  gone  in  one  of  the  carriages  in  the  proces- 
sion, but  I  would  rather  be  here  on  the  sidewalk  with 
you.  A  man  can  never  see  much  of  a  show  if  he  is 
part  of  it." 

It  was  a  winter's  day,  but  Richmond  was  gay, 
nevertheless.  The  heavens  opened  in  fold  on  fold 
of  golden  sunshine,  and  a  bird  of  winter,  rising  above 
the  city,  poured  out  a  flood  of  song.  The  boys  had  a 
holiday  and  they  were  shouting  in  the  streets.  Officers 


60  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

in  their  best  uniforms  rode  by,  and  women,  bringing 
treasured  dresses  of  silk  or  satin  from  old  chests, 
appeared  now  in  gay  and  warm  colours.  The  love 
of  festivity,  which  war  itself  could  not  crush,  came 
forth,  and  these  people,  all  of  whom  knew  one  another, 
began  to  laugh  and  jest  and  to  see  the  brighter  side 
of  life. 

"Come  toward  the  hotel,"  said  Talbot  to  his 
friends;  "Morgan  and  some  of  the  great  men  of 
Kentucky  who  are  with  him  have  been  there  all 
night .  That 's  where  the  procession  starts ." 

Nothing  loath,  they  followed  him,  and  stayed  about 
the  hotel,  talking  with  acquaintances  and  exchanging 
the  news  of  the  morning.  Meanwhile  the  brilliant  day 
deepened  and  at  noon  the  time  for  the  festivities  to 
begin  was  at  hand. 

The  redoubtable  cavalry  leader,  whose  fame  was 
rivaling  that  of  Stuart  and  Wood,  came  forth  from 
the  hotel,  his  friends  about  him,  and  the  grand  proces- 
sion through  the  streets  was  formed.  First  went  the 
Armory  Band,  playing  its  most  gallant  tunes,  and 
after  that  the  city  Battalion  in  its  brightest  uniform. 
In  the  first  carriage  sat  General  Morgan  and  Mayor 
Joseph  Mayo  of  Richmond,  side  by  side,  and  behind 
them  in  carriages  and  on  horseback  rode  a  bril- 
liant company;  famous  Confederate  Generals  like 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  Edward  Johnson,  A.  P.  Hill  and 
others,  Hawes,  the  so-called  Confederate  Governor  of 
Kentucky,  and  many  more. 

Virginia  was  doing  honour  to  Kentucky  in  the 
person  of  the  latter's  gallant  son,  John  H.  Morgan, 
and  the  crowd  flamed  into  enthusiasm.  Tumultuous 
applause  arose.  These  were  great  men  to  the  people. 
Their  names  were  known  in  every  household,  and  they 
resounded  now,  shouted  by  many  voices  in  the  crisp, 
wintry  air.  The  carriages  moved  briskly  along,  the 
horses  reared  with  their  riders  in  brilliant  uniforms, 
and  their  steel-shod  hoofs  struck  sparks  from  the 
stones  of  the  streets.  Ahead  of  all,  the  band  played 
dance  music,  and  the  brass  of  horn  and  trumpet 
flashed  back  the  golden  gleam  of  the  sun.  The  great 
dark-haired  and  dark-eyed  cavalryman,  the  centre 


AN    ELUSIVE    FACE  61 

and  object  of  so  much  applause  and  enthusiasm, 
smiled  with  pleasure,  and  bowed  to  right  and  left 
like  a  Roman  Caesar  at  his  triumph. 

The  joy  and  enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  increased 
and  the  applause  swelled  into  rumbling  thunder. 
Richmond,  so  long  depressed  and  gloomy,  sprang  up 
with  a  bound.  Why  cry  when  it  was  so  much  better 
to  laugh !  The  flash  of  uniforms  was  in  the  eyes  of 
all,  and  the  note  of  triumphant  music  in  every  ear. 
What  were  the  Yankees,  anyway,  but  a  leaderless 
horde?  They  could  never  triumph  over  such  men 
as  these,  Morgan,  Stuart,  Wood,  Harley,  Hill,  not  to 
mention  the  peerless  chief  of  them  all,  Lee,  out  there, 
always  watching. 

The  low  thunder  of  a  cannon  came  faintly  from 
the  north,  but  there  were  few  who  heard  it. 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  for  Morgan  spread  to 
everybody,  and  mighty  cheers  were  given  in  turn  for 
all  the  Generals  and  the  Mayor.  The  rebound  was 
complete.  The  whole  people,  for  the  time  being, 
looked  forward  to  triumph,  thorough  and  magnificent. 
The  nearer  the  Yankees  came  to  Richmond  the 
greater  would  be  their  defeat  and  rout.  High  spirits 
were  contagious  and  ran  through  the  crowd  like  a 
fire  in  dry  grass. 

"Hurrah !"  cried  Talbot,  clapping  his  hand  heavily 
upon  Prescott's  shoulder.  "This  is  the  spirit  that 
wins!  We'll  drive  the  Yankees  into  the  Potomac 
now !" 

"I've  never  heard  that  battles  were  won  by  shouting 
and  the  music  of  bands,"  replied  Prescott  dryly. 
"How  many  of  these  people  who  are  making  so  much 
noise  have  anything  whatever  to  do  with  the  war  ?" 

"That's  your  Puritan  mind,  old  Gloomy  Face," 
replied  Talbot.  "Nothing  was  ever  won  by  being  too 
solemn." 

"And  we  mustn't  hold  too  cheaply  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  crowd — even  a  crowd  that  is  influenced  merely 
by  the  emotion  of  the  moment,"  said  Raymond. 
"It  is  a  force  which,  aimless  in  itself,  may  be  con- 
trolled for  good  uses  by  others.  Ha,  look  at  Harley, 
there  !  Well  done !" 


62  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Helen's  brother  was  riding  an  unusually  spirited 
horse  that  reared  and  curveted  every  time  the  band 
put  forth  an  unusual  effort.  The  Colonel  himself 
was  in  gorgeous  attire,  wearing  a  brand  new  uniform 
with  much  gold  lace,  very  large  epaulets  on  his 
shoulders  and  a  splendid  silken  sash  around  his 
waist.  A  great  cavalry  saber  hung  at  his  side.  He 
was  a  resplendent  figure  and  he  drew  much  applause 
from  the  boys  and  the  younger  women.  His  eyes 
shone  with  pleasure,  and  he  allowed  his  horse  to 
curvet  freely. 

A  little  girl,  perhaps  pressed  too  much  by  the 
unconscious  crowd  or  perhaps  driven  on  by  her  own 
enthusiasm,  fell  directly  in  front  of  the  rearing  horse 
of  Harley.  It  was  too  late  for  him  to  stop,  and  a  cry 
of  alarm  arose  from  the  crowd,  who  expected  to  see  the 
iron-shod  hoofs  beat  the  child's  body  into  the  pave- 
ment, but  Harley  instantly  struck  his  horse  a  mighty 
blow  and  the  animal  sprang  far  over  the  child,  leaving 
her  untouched. 

The  applause  was  thunderous,  and  Harley  bowed 
and  bowed,  lifting  his  plumed  hat  again  and  again 
to  the  admiring  multitude,  while  sitting  his  still- 
rearing  horse  with  an  ease  and  grace  that  was  beyond 
criticism. 

"The  man's  whole  character  was  expressed  in  that 
act,"  said  Raymond  with  conviction;  "vain  to  the 
last  degree,  as  fond  of  display  and  colours  as  a  child, 
unconsciously  selfish,  but  in  the  presence  of  physical 
danger  quick,  resourceful,  and  as  brave  as  Alexander. 
What  queer  mixtures  we  are  !" 

Mr.  Harley  was  in  one  of  the  carriages  of  the 
procession  and  his  eyes  glittered  with  pleasure  and 
pride  when  he  witnessed  the  act  of  his  son.  Moreover, 
in  his  parental  capacity  he  appropriated  part  of  the 
credit  and  also  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed. 

The  procession  advanced  along  Main  Street  toward 
the  south  porch  of  the  City  Hall,  where  General 
Morgan  was  to  be  presented  formally  to  the  people, 
and  the  cheers  never  ceased  for  a  moment.  Talbot 
and  the  two  editors  talked  continually  about  the 
scene  before  them,  even  the  minds  of  the  two  profes- 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  63 

sional  critics  becoming  influenced  by  the  unbounded 
enthusiasm;  but  Prescott  paid  only  a  vague  attention, 
his  mind  having  been  drawn  away  by  something  else. 

The  young  Captain  saw  in  the  throng  a  woman 
who  seemed  to  him  somewhat  different  from  those 
around  her.  She  was  not  cheering  nor  clapping  her 
hands — merely  floating  with  the  stream.  She  was 
very  tall  and  walked  with  a  strong  and  graceful  step, 
but  was  wrapped  to  her  cheeks  in  a  long  brown 
cloak;  only  a  pair  of  wonderfully  keen  eyes,  which 
once  met  the  glance  of  his,  rose  above  its  folds. 
Her  look  rested  on  him  a  moment  and  held  him  with  a 
kind  of  secret  power,  then  her  eyes  passed  on ;  but  it 
seemed  to  him  that  under  a  show  of  indifference  she 
was  examining  everything  with  minute  scrutiny. 

It  was  the  lady  of  the  brown  cloak,  his  silent 
companion  of  the  train,  and  Prescott  burned  with 
curiosity  at  this  unexpected  meeting.  He  watched 
her  for  some  time  and  he  could  make  nothing  of  her. 
She  spoke  to  no  one,  but  kept  her  place  among  the 
people,  unnoticed  but  noticing.  He  was  recalled 
to  himself  presently  by  Talbot's  demand  to  know 
why  he  stared  so  much  at  the  crowd  and  not  at  the 
show  itself. 

Then  he  turned  his  attention  away  from  the  woman 
to  the  procession,  but  he  resolved  not  to  lose  sight 
of  her  entirely. 

At  the  south  porch  of  the  City  Hall  General 
Morgan  was  introduced  with  great  ceremony  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Confederate  capital,  who  had  long 
heard  of  his  gallant  deeds. 

After  the  cheering  subsided,  the  General,  a  hand- 
some man  of  thirty-six  or  seven,  made  a  speech. 
The  Southern  people  dearly  love  a  speech,  and  they 
gave  him  close  attention,  especially  as  he  was  sanguine, 
predicting  great  victories.  Little  he  dreamed  that 
his  career  was  then  close  to  its  bloody  end,  and  that 
the  brilliant  Stuart,  standing  so  near,  would  be  claimed 
even  sooner;  that  Hill,  over  there,  and  others  beside 
him,  would  never  see  the  close  of  the  war.  There  was 
no  note  of  all  this  in  the  air  now,  and  no  note  of  it 
in  Morgan's  speech.  Young  blood  and  lively  hope 


64  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

spoke  in  him,  and  the  bubbling  spirits  of  the  crowd 
responded. 

Prescott  and  his  comrades  stood  beside  the  porch, 
listening  to  the  address  and  the  cheers,  and  Prescott 's 
attention  was  claimed  again  by  the  strange  woman  in 
the  throng.  She  was  standing  directly  in  front  Of  the 
speaker,  though  all  but  her  face  was  hidden  by  those 
around  her.  He  saw  the  same  keen  eyes  under  long 
lashes  studying  the  generals  on  the  porch.  "I'm 
going  to  speak  to  that  woman,"  resolved  Prescott. 
"Boys,"  he  said  to  his  comrades,  "I've  just  caught 
the  eye  of  an  old  friend  whom  I  haven't  seen  in  a  long 
time.  Excuse  me  for  a  minute." 

He  edged  his  way  cautiously  through  the  throng 
until  he  stood  beside  the  strange  woman.  She  did 
not  notice  his  coming  and  presently  he  stumbled 
slightly  against  her.  He  recovered  himself  instantly 
and  was  ready  with  an  apology. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "but  we  have  met 
before.  I  seem  to  remember  you,  Miss,  Miss " 

The  woman  looked  startled,  then  set  her  lips 
firmly. 

"You  are  rude,  sir,"  she  said.  "Is  it  the  custom 
of  Southern  gentlemen  to  accost  ladies  in  this 
manner?" 

She  gave  her  shoulders  a  haughty  shrug  and  turned 
her  back  upon  him.  Prescott  flushed,'  but  held  his 
ground,  and  he  would  have  spoken  to  her  again  had 
she  given  him  the  chance.  But  she  began  to  move 
away  and  he  was  afraid  to  follow  deliberately  lest  he 
make  a  scene.  Instead,  he  went  back  to  his  friends. 

The  General's  speech  came  to  an  end  and  was 
followed  by  a  rolling  thunder  of  cheers.  Then  all  the 
people  of  consequence  were  presented  to  him,  and 
forth  from  the  Hustings  court-room,  where  they  had 
been  biding  their  time,  walked  twenty  of  the  most 
beautiful  young  ladies  of  Richmond,  in  holiday 
attire  of  pink,  rose  and  lilac  silk  or  satin,  puffed  and 
flounced,  their  hair  adorned  with  pink  and  red  roses 
from  Richmond  hothouses. 

It  was  really  a  wonderful  bit  of  feminine  colouring 
amid  the  crowd,  and  the  Southern  people,  ever  proud 


AN   ELUSIVE   FACE  65 

of  their  women,  cheered  again.  Helen  was  there — 
it  was  a  holiday — in  a  wonderful  old  dress  of  rose- 
coloured  satin,  her  cheeks  glowing  and  her  eyes 
shining,  and  as  Prescott  saw  her  he  forgot  the  strange 
woman  who  had  rebuffed  him. 

"The  most  beautiful  girl  of  this  score  of  beautiful 
girls  is  to  present  a  wreath  of  roses  to  General  Morgan. 
I  wonder  who  it  will  be,"  said  Raymond. 

He  looked  quizzically  at  Prescott. 

"I  wonder,"  repeated  Prescott,  but  he  felt  no 
doubt  whatever  upon  the  subject. 

The  cheering  of  the  crowd  ceased,  and  Helen, 
escorted  by  her  brother,  stepped  from  the  unserried 
ranks  of  beauty  to  a  table  where  the  chaplet  of  roses 
lay.  Then  the  General  stood  aside,  and  Helen,  walk- 
ing forward  alone,  made  a  little  speech  to  General 
Morgan,  in  which  she  complimented  him  on  his 
courage  and  brilliant  achievements.  She  said  that 
the  sound  of  his  voice  would  always  strike  terror  in 
the  North  and  kindle  hope  anew  in  the  South.  She 
was  half  afraid,  half  daring,  but  she  spoke  the  words 
clearly.  The  big,  black-bearded  General  stood  before 
her,  hat  in  hand  and  openly  admiring.  When  she 
came  to  the  end  of  her  speech  she  reached  up,  rested 
the  wreath  for  a  moment  on  his  bushy  black 
crown  of  hair  and  then  put  it  in  his  hands.  Now 
the  crowd  gave  its  greatest  burst  of  applause.  The 
two  figures  standing  there,  the  tall,  brown  soldier  and 
the  beautiful  woman,  appealed  to  all  that  was  gallant 
in  their  nature. 

"It  does  not  look  as  if  there  would  be  any  social 
ostracism  of  Miss  Harley  because  she  has  turned 
working  woman,"  said  Winthrop. 

"Cold  and  selfish  emotions  don't  count  at  a  time 
like  this,"  said  Raymond;  "it's  the  silent  pressure  of 
time  and  circumstance  that  she'll  have  to  reckon 
with." 

Helen,  her  great  deed  performed,  walked  back, 
blushing  somewhat,  and  hid  herself  among  her  com- 
panions. Then,  the  official  ceremonies  over,  the  occa- 
sion became  informal,  and  soon  generals  and  young 
women  alike  were  surrounded  by  admirers,  war  and 


66  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

beauty  having  chances  about  equal  in  the  competition. 
The  good  spirits  of  the  crowd,  moved  by  triumphant 
oratory,  the  beauty  of  the  women  and  the  blaze  of 
uniforms,  grew  to  such  a  pitch  that  no  discordant 
note  marred  the  cheerfulness  of  those  gathered  in  the 
old  Court  House. 

Prescott  pressed  into  the  crowd,  but  he  found  him- 
self somewhat  lost,  or,  rather,  dimmed,  amid  the 
brilliant  uniforms  of  the  generals,  who  were  as  thick 
as  corn  in  the  field,  and  he  despaired  of  securing  more 
than  a  small  part  of  Helen's  attention.  He  had 
admired  her  beauty  more  than  ever  that  day;  her 
timid  dignity  when  all  critical  eyes  were  upon  her 
impressed  him,  and  yet  he  felt  no  jealousy  now  when 
he  saw  her  surrounded  and  so  sincerely  flattered  by 
others.  He  was  surprised  at  himself,  and  a  little 
angry,  too,  that  it  should  be  so,  but  search  his  mind 
as  he  would  he  could  not  find  the  cause.  At  last  he 
secured  a  word  or  two  with  her  and  passed  on  toward 
the  porch;  but  looking  back  saw  the  great  cavalry 
leader,  Wood,  the  mountaineer,  talking  to  her,  his 
tall  figure  towering  a  head  over  hers,  his  black  eyes 
sparkling  with  a  new  fire  and  lighting  up  his  face  like 
a  blaze.  His  uniform  was  not  too  bright  and  he  was 
an  imposing  figure  —  lionlike  was  the  simile  that 
occurred  to  Prescott. 

But  he  felt  no  pang — again  he  was  surprised  at 
himself — and  went  on  his  way  to  the  parlour,  where 
the  decorations  were  yet  untouched,  and  gazed  at  the 
crowd,  portions  of  which  still  lingered  in  the  streets. 

His  eyes  unconsciously  sought  one  figure,  a  figure 
that  was  not  there,  and  he  came  to  himself  with  a 
start  when  he  realized  the  cause  that  had  drawn  him 
to  the  place.  Displeased  with  himself,  he  rejoined 
his  friends  in  the  court-room. 

"Let's  go  into  the  hall  and  see  the  ladies  and  the 
great  men,"  said  Talbot,  and  his  comrades  willingly 
went  with  him.  It  was  indeed  an  animated  scene  in 
the  building,  the  same  high  spirits  and  confident 
hope  for  the  future  that  had  marked  the  crowd  pre- 
vailing here. 

Despite  the  winter  without,  it  was  warm  in  the 


AN    ELUSIVE   FACE  67 

rooms  of  the  City  Hall,  and  Prescott,  after  awhile, 
went  back  to  the  porch  from  which  General  Morgan 
had  made  his  speech.  Many  of  the  enthusiastic 
throng  of  spectators  still  lingered  and  small  boys  were 
sending  off  amateur  fireworks.  Going  outside,  he 
became  once  more  one  of  the  throng,  simply  because 
he  had  caught  another  glimpse  of  a  face  that  inter- 
ested and  mystified  him. 

It  was  the  tall  woman  of  the  brown  cloak,  still 
watching  everything  with  eyes  that  missed  no  detail. 
She  annoyed  Prescott;  she  had  become  an  obsession 
like  one  of  those  little  puzzles  the  solution  of  which 
is  of  no  importance  except  when  one  cannot  obtain 
it.  So  he  lingered  in  her  neighbourhood,  taking  care 
that  she  should  not  observe  him,  and  he  asked  two 
or  three  persons  concerning  her  identity.  Nobody 
knew  her. 

As  the  crowd,  by  and  by,  began  to  diminish,  the 
woman  turned  away.  The  outlines  of  her  figure  were 
not  disclosed,  but  her  step  was  swinging  and  free,  as 
that  of  one  who  had  an  abundance  of  health  and 
vigour.  She  spoke  to  nobody,  but  seemed  sure  of 
her  way. 

She  went  up  Main  Street,  and  Prescott,  his  curiosity 
increasing,  followed  at  a  distance.  She  did  not  look 
back,  and  he  closed  up  gradually  the  gap  between 
them,  in  order  that  he  might  not  lose  sight  of  her  if 
she  turned  around  a  croner.  This  she  did  presently, 
but  when  he  hastened  and  passed  the  corner,  too,  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  woman  in  brown. 

"  Well,  sir  ? "  she  said  sharply. 

"Ah,  I Excuse  me,  I  did  not  see  you.  I  turned 

the  corner  with  such  suddenness,"  he  said  awk- 
wardly, having  an  uneasy  sense  that  he  had  been 
intrusive,  yet  anxious  to  solve  the  troublesome  little 
mystery. 

"  You  were  following  me — and  for  the  second  time 
to-day. " 

He  was  silent,  but  his  flushed  face  confirmed  the 
truth  of  her  accusation.  For  the  moment  that  he 
stood  near  he  examined  her  features.  He  saw  eyes 
so  dark  that  he  could  not  tell  whether  they  were  blu 


68  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

or  black,  eyelashes  of  unusual  length,  and  a  pale  face 
remarkable  for  its  strength.  But  it  was  youthful  and 
finely  cut,  while  a  wisp  of  bronze  hair  at  the  edge 
of  the  hood  showed  a  gleam  of  gold  as  the  sunshine 
fell  across  it. 

"  I  have  heard  that  Southern  gentlemen  were  always 
courteous,  as  I  told  you  once  before, "  she  said. 

"I  thought  I  knew  you,  but  made  a  mistake," 
Prescott  replied,  it  being  the  first  thing  that  came  into 
his  mind.  "I  fear  that  I  have  been  rude  and  I  ask 
your  pardon." 

He  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  humbly. 

"  You  can  show  contrition  by  ceasing  to  follow  me, " 
she  said,  and  the  sharp  tone  of  her  accusation  was 
still  in  her  voice. 

Prescott  bowed  again  and  turned  away.  He  fully 
meant  to  keep  his  implied  promise,  but  curiosity 
was  too  strong  for  him,  and  watching  once  more 
from  a  distance,  he  saw  her  go  up  Shockoe  Hill  and 
into  the  Capitol  through  the  wide-open  doors.  When 
he  found  it  convenient  presently  to  enter  the  Capitol 
in  his  turn,  he  saw  no  trace  of  her,  and, .disappointed 
and  annoyed  with  himself,  he  went  back  to  the  City 
Hall.  Here  Talbot  was  the  first  whom  he  met. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ? "  asked  his  friend. 

"Following  a  woman." 

"Following  a  woman?" 

Talbot  looked  at  Prescott  in  surprise. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  that  kind  of  a  man,  Bob,  " 
he  said;  "but  what  luck?" 

"None  at  all.  I  failed  even  to  learn  her  name, 
where  she  lived  or  anything  else  about  her.  I'll  tell 
you  more  this  evening,  because  I  want  your  advice. " 

The  reception  ended  presently,  and  the  ladies, 
escorted  by  the  young  men,  went  to  their  homes. 
Talbot,  Winthrop  and  Raymond  rejoined  Prescott 
soon  afterward  near  Shockoe  Hill. 

"  Now  tell  us  of  the  woman  you  were  following, " 
said  Talbot. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall,"  replied  Prescott.  "I've 
changed  my  intention  about  it— at  least,  for  the 
present." 


AN    ELUSIVE    FACE  69 

The  affair  had  clung  to  his  mind  and  the  result  of 
his  second  thought  was  a  resolution  to  keep  it  to 
himself  a  while  longer.  He  had  formed  a  suspicion, 
but  it  might  be  wrong,  and  he  would  not  willingly  do 
injustice  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to  a  woman.  Her 
face,  when  he  saw  her  close  at  hand,  looked  pure  and 
good,  and  now  that  he  recalled  it  he  could  remember 
distinctly  that  there  had  been  in  it  a  touch  of  reproach 
and  the  reproach  was  for  him — she  had  seemed  to  ask 
why  he  annoyed  her.  No,  he  would  wait  before 
speaking  of  her  to  his  friends. 

Talbot  regarded  Prescott  for  a  moment  with  an 
inquiring  gaze,  but  said  nothing  more  upon  the 
subject. 

Prescott  left  his  friends  at  the  Capitol  and  spent 
the  remainder  of  the  day  with  his  mother,  who  on 
the  plea  of  age  had  avoided  the  reception  and  the 
festivities,  although  she  now  had  many  questions  to 
ask. 

"I  hear  that  great  enthusiasm  was  shown  and 
brilliant  predictions  were  made,"  she  said. 

"It  is  quite  true,"  he  replied.  "The  music,  the 
speeches  and  the  high  spirits,  which  you  know  are 
contagious  in  a  crowd,  have  done  good,  I  think,  to  the 
Southern  cause. " 

"Did  Morgan  bring  any  new  recruits  for  General 
Lee's  army?" 

"  Now,  mother, "  replied  Prescott,  laughing  a  little, 
"don't  let  your  Northern  blood  carry  you  too  far. 
I  know,  too,  that  wars  are  not  won  by  music  and 
shouting,  and  days  like  to-day  bring  nothing  sub- 
stantial—merely an  increase  of  hope ;  but  after  all,  that 
is  what  produces  substantial  results. " 

She  smiled  and  did  not  answer,  but  went  on  quietly 
with  her  sewing.  Prescott  watched  her  for  awhile 
and  reflected  what  a  beautiful  woman  his  mother 
must  have  been,  and  was  yet,  for  that  matter. 

"Mother,"  he  said  presently,  "you  do  not  speak  it 
aloud,  but  you  cannot  disguise  from  me  the  fact  that 
you  think  it  would  be  better  for  the  North  to  win. " 

She  hesitated,  but  at  last  she  said: 

"I  cannot  rejoice  whichever  way  this  war  ends. 


70  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Are  you  not  on  the  side  of  the  South  ?  All  I  can  pray 
for  is  that  it  may  end  quickly.  " 

"In  your  heart,  mother,  you  have  no  doubt  of  the 
result. " 

She  made  no  reply,  and  Prescott  did  not  pursue 
the  subject. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PURSUIT  OP  A  WOMAN 

The  silver  lining  which  the  reception  to  General 
Morgan  put  in  the  cloud  always  hanging  over  Rich- 
mond lasted  until  the  next  day,  when  the  content  of 
the  capital  was  rudely  shattered  by  news  that  impor- 
tant papers  had  been  stolen  from  the  office  of  the 
President  in  the  granite  building  on  Bank  Street. 
The  exact  value  of  these  papers  the  public  did  not 
know,  but  they  contained  plans,  it  was  said,  of  the 
coming  campaign  and  exact  data  concerning  the 
military  and  financial  condition  of  the  Confederacy. 
They  were,  therefore,  of  value  alike  to  the  Government 
and  its  enemies,  and  great  was  the  noise  over  their 
disappearance. 

The  theft,  so  supposition  ran,  was  committed  while 
nearly  all  the  officials  were  present  at  the  festivities 
of  the  preceding  day,  and  when  the  guard  about  the 
public  offices,  never  very  strict,  was  relaxed  more  than 
usual.  But  the  clue  stopped  there,  and,  so  far  as  the 
city  could  hear,  it  bade  fair  to  remain  at  that  point, 
as  the  crush  of  great  affairs  about  to  decide  the  fate 
of  a  nation  would  not  permit  a  long  search  for 
such  a  secret  spring,  though  the  leakage  might  prove 
expensive. 

"  Probably  some  faithless  servant  who  hopes  to  sell 
them  to  the  North  for  a  large  reward, "  said  Raymond 
to  Prescott. 

"  I  think  not, "  replied  Prescott  with  emphasis. 

"Ah,  you  don't?  Then  what  do  you  think?" 
asked  Raymond,  looking  at  him  sharply. 

"A  common  spy,"  replied  Prescott,  not  wishing 
to  be  surprised  into  further  disclosure  of  his  thought. 
"You  know  such  must  be  here.  In  war  no  city  or 
army  is  free  from  spies. " 


72  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"  But  that's  a  vague  generalization,"  said  Raymond, 
"and  leads  to  nothing.  " 

"True,"  said  Prescott,  but  he  intended  a  further 
inquiry  into  the  matter  on  his  own  account,  and 
this  he  undertook  as  soon  as  he  was  free  from  others. 
He  was  perhaps  better  fitted  than  any  one  else  in 
Richmond  for  the  search,  because  he  had  sufficient 
basis  upon  which  to  build  a  plan  that  might  or  might 
not  lead  to  a  definite  issue. 

He  went  at  once  to  the  building  in  which  the 
President  had  his  office,  where,  despite  the  robbery 
of  the  day  before,  he  roamed  about  among  the  rooms 
and  halls  almost  as  he  pleased,  inquiring  and  making 
suggestions  which  might  draw  from  the  attendants 
facts  to  them  of  slight  importance.  Yes,  visitors  had 
been  there  the  day  before,  chiefly  ladies,  some  from 
the  farther  South,  drawn  by  veneration  for  their 
beloved  President  and  a  wish  to  see  the  severe  and 
simple  offices  from  which  the  destiny  of  eleven  great 
States  and  the  fate  of  the  mightiest  war  the  world 
had  ever  known  was  directed. 

And  who  were  the  ladies  ?  If  their  names  were  not 
known,  could  not  a  description  of  their  appearance  be 
given  ?  But  no  one  had  any  definite  memory  on  these 
points;  they  were  just  like  other  sightseers.  Was 
there  a  tall  woman  with  a  brown  cloak  among  them  ? 
Prescott  put  this  question  to  several  people,  but  drew 
no  affirmative  reply  until  he  found  an  old  coloured 
man  who  swept  the  halls.  The  sweeper  thought  that 
he  did  remember  seeing  such  a  figure  on  the  lower 
floor,  but  he  was  not  sure,  and  with  that  Prescott  was 
forced  to  be  content. 

He  felt  that  his  search  had  not  been  wholly  in  vain, 
leading  as  it  did  to  what  might  be  called  the  shadow 
of  a  clue,  and  he  resolved  to  continue  it.  There  had 
been  leaks  before  in  the  Confederacy,  some  by  chance 
and  some  by  design,  notably  an  instance  of  the  former 
when  Lee's  message  to  his  lieutenant  was  lost  by  the 
messenger  and  found  by  a  Northern  sympathizer, 
thus  informing  his  opponents  of  his  plan  and  com- 
pelling him  to  fight  the  costly  battle  of  Antietam.  If 
he  pursued  this  matter  and  prevented  its  ultimate 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  A  WOMAN  73 

issue,  he  might  save  the  Confederacy  far  more  than 
he  could  otherwise. 

Richmond  was  a  small  city,  difficult  of  entrance 
without  a  pass,  and  for  two  or  three  days  Prescott, 
abandoning  the  society  of  his  friends,  trod  its  streets 
industriously,  not  neglecting  the  smallest  and  meanest 
among  them,  seeking  always  a  tall  figure  in  a  brown 
dress  and  brown  cloak.  It  became  an  obsession  with 
him,  and,  as  he  now  recognized,  there  was  even  more 
in  it  than  a  mere  hunt  for  a  spy.  This  woman 
troubled  him;  he  wished  to  know  who  and  what  she 
was  and  why  she,  a  girl,  had  undertaken  a  task  so 
unfitting.  Yet  war,  he  remembered,  is  a  destroyer 
of  conventions,  and  the  mighty  upheaval  through 
which  the  country  was  going  could  account  for  any- 
thing. 

He  found  on  the  third  day  his  reward  in  another 
glimpse  of  the  elusive  and  now  tantalizing  brown 
figure  under  the  brow  of  Shockoe  Hill,  strolling  along 
casually,  as  if  the  beauty  of  the  day  and  the  free  air 
of  the  heavens  alone  attracted. 

The  brown  dress  had  been  changed,  but  the  brown 
cloak  remained  the  same,  and  Prescott  felt  a  pang  of 
remorse  lest  he  had  done  an  injustice  to  a  woman  who 
looked  so  innocent.  Until  this  moment  he  had  never 
seen  her  face  distinctly,  save  one  glimpse,  but  now 
the  brown  hood  that  she  wore  was  thrown  back  a 
little  and  there  shone  beneath  it  clear  eyes  of  darkest 
blue,  illuminating  a  face  as  young,  as  pure,  as  delicate 
in  outline  as  he  could  have  wished  for  in  a  sister  of 
his  own.  No  harm  could  be  there.  A  woman  who 
looked  like  that  could  Hot  be  engaged  upon  an  errand 
such  as  he  suspected,  and  he  would  leave  her  undis- 
turbed. 

But,  second  thought  came.  He  put  together  again 
all  the  circumstances,  the  occasions  upon  which  he 
had  seen  her,  especially  that  day  of  the  Morgan  recep- 
tion, and  his  suspicions  returned.  So  he  followed  her 
again,  at  a  distance  now,  lest  she  should  see  him,  and 
was  led  a  long  and  winding  chase  about  the  capital. 

He  did  not  believe  that  she  knew  of  his  presence, 
and  these  vague  meanderings  through  the  streets  of 


74  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Richmond  confirmed  his  belief.  No  one  with  a  clear 
conscience  would  leave  such  crooked  tracks,  and  what 
other  purpose  could  she  have  now  save  to  escape 
observation  until  the  vigilance  of.  the  sentinels,  on 
edge  over  the  robbery,  should  relax  a  little  and  she 
could  escape  through  the  cordon  of  guards  that 
belted  in  Richmond. 

She  passed  at  last  into  an  obscure  side  street  and 
there  entered  a  little  brown  wooden  cottage.  Prescott , 
watching  from  the  corner,  saw  her  disappear  within, 
and  he  resolved  that  he  would  see  her,  too,  when  she 
came  out  again.  Therefore  he  remained  at  the 
corner  or  near  it,  sauntering  about  now  and  then  to 
avoid  notice,  but  always  keeping  within  a  narrow 
circle  and  never  losing  sight  of  the  house. 

He  was  aware  that  he  might  remain  there  a  long 
time,  but  he  had  a  stiff  will  and  he  was  bent  upon 
solving  this  problem  which  puzzled  and  irritated  him. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  he 
traced  her  to  the  cottage,  but  the  fragment  of  the  day 
remaining  seemed  long  to  him.  Golden  shadows  hung 
over  the  capital,  but  at  last  the  sun  went  down  in  a 
sea  of  flame  and  the  cold  night  of  winter  gathered  all 
within  its  folds. 

Prescott  shivered  as  he  trod  his  beat  like  a  police- 
man, but  he  was  of  a  tenacious  fiber,  and  scorning 
alike  the  warnings  of  cold  and  hunger,  he  remained 
near  the  house,  drawing  closer  and  watching  it  more 
zealously  than  ever  in  the  moonlight.  His  resolution 
strengthened,  too;  he  would  stay  there,  if  necessary, 
until  the  sunset  of  the  next  day. 

More  hours  passed  at  a  limping  gait.  The  murmur 
of  the  city  died,  and  all  was  dark  and  still  in  the  side 
street.  Far  into  the  night,  nearly  twelve,  it  must 
have  been,  when  a  figure  stole  from  the  cottage  and 
glanced  up  the  little  ravine  toward  the  main  street, 
where  Prescott  stood  invisible  in  the  shadow  of  a  high 
wooden  fence. 

She  did  not  come  by  the  front  door,  but  stole  out 
from  the  rear.  He  was  convinced  that  he  was  right 
m  his  suspicions,  and  now  every  action  of  this 
unknown  woman  indicated  guilt  to  his  mind. 


THE    PURSUIT  OF  A  WOMAN  75 

He  crouched  down  in  an  angle  of  the  fence,  hidden 
completely  by  its  shadow  and  the  night,  though  he 
could  see  her  well  as  she  came  up  the  little  street, 
walking  with  light  step  and  watching  warily  on  every 
side.  He  noticed  even  then  how  strong  and  elastic 
her  figure  appeared  and  that  every  step  was  instinct 
with  life  and  vitality.  She  must  be  a  woman  of  more 
than  common  will  and  mould. 

She  came  on,  slightly  increasing  her  speed,  and  did 
not  see  the  dark  figure  of  the  man  by  the  fence.  A 
hood  was  drawn  to  her  eyes  and  a  fold  of  her  cloak 
covered  her  chin.  He  could  see  now  only  a  wisp  of 
face  like  a  sickle  of  a  silver  moon,  and  the  feeling  that 
disturbed  him  in  the  day  did  not  return  to  him.  He 
again  imagined  her  cold  and  hard,  a  woman  of  middle 
age,  battered  by  the  world,  an  adventuress  who  did 
not  fear  to  go  forth  in  the  night  upon  what  he  thought 
unholy  errands. 

She  entered  the  main  street,  passed  swiftly  down  it 
toward  the  barriers  of  the  city,  and  Prescott,  with 
noiseless  footsteps,  came  behind ;  one  shadow  following 
the  other. 

None  save  themselves  seemed  to  be  abroad.  The 
city  was  steeped  in  Sabbath  calm  and  a  quiet  moon 
rode  in  a  quiet  heaven.  Prescott  did  not  stop  now 
to  analyze  his  feelings,  though  he  knew  that  a  touch 
of  pique,  and  perhaps  curiosity,  too,  entered  into  this 
pursuit,  otherwise  he  should  not  have  troubled  him- 
self so  much  with  an  unbidden  task.  But  he  was  the 
hunter  and  she  the  hunted,  and  he  was  alive  now  with 
the  spirit  of  the  chase. 

She  turned  toward  the  northwest,  where  the  lines 
of  earthwork  were  thinnest,  where,  in  fact,  a  single 
person  might  slip  between  them  in  the  darkness,  and 
Prescott  no  longer  had  any  doubt  that  his  first  sur- 
mise was  correct.  Moreover,  she  was  wary  to  the 
last  degree,  looking  cautiously  on  every  side  and 
stopping  now  and  then  to  see  that  she  was  not 
followed.  A  fine  moon  sometimes  shed  its  full  rays 
upon  her,  and  she  seemed  then  to  Prescott  to  be 
made  of  silver  mist. 

He,  too,  was  most  wary,  knowing  the  need  of  it, 


76  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

and  allowed  the  distance  between  them  to  lengthen, 
clinging  meanwhile  to  the  shadow  of  buildings  and 
fences  with  such  effect  that  when  she  looked  back  she 
never  saw  the  man  behind. 

They  passed  into  the  suburbs,  low  and  straggling, 
little  groups  of  negro  cabins  stringing  out  now  and 
then  in  the  darkness,  and  the  woman,  save  for  her 
occasional  pauses  to  see  if  she  were  pursued,  kept  a 
straight  and  rapid  course  as  if  she  knew  her  mind 
and  the  way. 

They  came  at  last  to  a  spot  where  there  was  a  small 
break  in  the  earthworks,  and  Prescott  saw  the  senti- 
nels walking  their  beats,  gun  on  shoulder.  Then  the 
fugitive  paused  in  the  shadow  of  bushes  and  high 
grass  and  watched  attentively. 

The  pursuit  had  become  curiously  unreal  to 
Prescott.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  the  mysterious  and  weird,  but  he  was 
resolute  to  follow,  and  he  wished  only  that  she  should 
resume  her  flight. 

When  the  sentinels  were  some  distance  apart  she 
slid  between  like  a  shadow,  unseen  and  unheard,  and 
Prescott,  an  adept  at  pursuit,  quickly  followed.  They 
were  now  beyond  the  first  line  of  earthworks,  though 
yet  within  the  ring  of  Richmond's  outer  defenses, 
but  a  single  person  with  ordinary  caution  might  pass 
the  latter,  too. 

He  followed  her  through  bushes  and  clumps  of  trees 
which  hung  like  patches  of  black  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  hills,  and  he  shortened  the  space  between  them, 
not  caring  now  if  she  saw  him,  as  he  no  longer  had  any 
doubt  of  her  purpose.  He  looked  back  once  and  saw 
behind  him  an  almost  imperceptible  glow  which  he 
knew  was  the  city,  and  then  on  the  left  beheld  another 
light,  the  mark  of  a  Confederate  fortress,  set  there  as 
a  guard  upon  the  ways. 

She  turned  to  the  right,  leaving  the  fortress  behind, 
passing  into  country  still  more  desolate,  and  Prescott 
thought  it  was  now  time  to  end  the  pursuit.  He 
pressed  forward  with  increased  speed,  and  she,  hearing 
the  sound  of  a  footstep  behind  her,  looked  back.  He 
heard  in  the  dead  stillness  of  the  night  the  low  cry  of 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  A   WOMAN  77 

fright  that  broke  from  her.  She  stood  for  a  moment 
as  if  the  power  of  motion  had  departed,  and  then  fled 
like  a  wounded  deer,  with  Prescott,  more  than  ever 
the  hunter,  swiftly  following  after. 

He  was  surprised  at  her  speed.  Clearly  she  was 
long-limbed  and  strong,  and  for  the  time  his  energies 
were  taxed  to  keep  within  sight  of  her  fleeing  figure. 
But  he  was  a  man,  she  a  woman,  and  the  pursuit 
was  not  long.  At  last  she  sank,  panting,  upon  a 
fallen  log,  and  Prescott  approached  her,  a  strange 
mingling  of  triumph  and  pity  in  his  heart. 

She  looked  up  and  there  was  appeal  in  her  face. 
Again  he  saw  how  young  she  was,  how  pure  the  light 
of  her  eyes,  how  delicately  moulded  each  feature,  and 
surprise  came,  as  a  third  emotion,  to  mingle  with  the 
triumph  and  pity,  and  not  in  a  less  degree. 

"Ah,  it  is  you,"  she  said,  and  in  her  tone  there  was 
no  surprise,  only  aversion. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,"  replied  Prescott;  "and  you  seemed 
to  have  expected  me." 

"Not  in  the  way  that  you  think,"  she  replied 
haughtily. 

A  wonderful  change  came  over  her  face,  and  her 
figure  seemed  to  stiffen;  every  lineament,  every  curve 
expressed  scorn  and  contempt.  Prescott  had  never 
before  seen  such  a  remarkable  transformation,  and 
for  the  moment  felt  as  if  he  were  the  guilty  one  and 
she  the  judge. 

While  he  was  wondering  thus  at  her  attractive 
personality,  she  rose  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Now,  sir,"  she  said,  "you  shall  let  me  go,  Mr. 

Mr. , 

"  I  am  Captain  Robert  Prescott  of  the  Confederate 
Army,"  said  Prescott.  "I  have  nothing  to  conceal," 
and  then  he  added  significantly:  "At  present  I  am 
on  voluntary  duty." 

"I  have  seen  enough  of  you,"  she  said  in  the  same 
unbending  tone.  "You  have  given  me  a  fright,  but 
now  I  am  recovered  and  I  bid  you  leave  me." 

"You  mistake,  Madam  or  Miss,"  replied  Prescott 
calmly,  recovering  his  composure;  "you  and  I  have 
not  seen  enough  of  each  other.  I  am  a  gentleman, 


73  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

I  hope,  at  least  I  have  passed  for  one,  and  I  have  no 
intent  to  insult  you." 

"What  is  your  wish?"  she  asked,  still  standing 
before  him,  straight  and  tall,  her  tone  as  cold  as  ice. 

"Truly,"  thought  Prescott,  "she  can  carry  it  off 
well,  and  if  such  business  as  this  must  be  done  by  a 
woman,  hers  is  a  mind  for  the  task."  But  aloud  he 
said:  "  Madam — or — Miss — you  see  you  are  less  frank 
than  I;  you  do  not  supply  the  omission — certain 
documents  important  to  the  Government  which  I 
serve,  and  as  important  to  our  enemies  if  they  can 
get  them,  were  taken  yesterday  from  the  office  of  the 
President.  Kindly  give  them  to  me,  as  I  am  a  better 
custodian  for  them  than  you  are." 

Her  face  remained  unchanged.  Not  by  a  single 
quiver  of  the  lip  or  gleam  of  the  eye  did  she  show 
emotion,  and  in  the  same  cold,  even  voice  she 
replied : 

"You  are  dreaming,  Captain  Prescott.  Some  freak 
of  the  fancy  has  mastered  you.  I  know  nothing  of 
the  documents.  How  could  I,  a  woman,  do  such  a 
thing?" 

"It  is  not  more  strange  than  your  flight  from 
Richmond  alone  and  at  such  an  hour." 

"What  signifies  that  ?  These  are  times  of  war  and 
strange  times  demand  strange  conduct.  Besides,  it 
concerns  me  alone." 

"Not  so,"  replied  Prescott  firmly;  "give  me  the 
papers." 

Her  face  now  changed  from  its  calm.  Variable 
emotions  shot  over  it.  Prescott,  as  he  stood  there 
before  her,  was  conscious  of  admiratiDn.  What 
vagary  had  sent  a  girl  who  looked  like  this  upon  such 
a  task ! 

| The  papers,"  he  repeated. 

"I  have  none,"  she  replied. 

"If  you  do  not  give  them  to  me  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  search  you,  and  that,  I  fancy,  you  do  not 
wish.  But  I  assure  you  that  I  shall  do  it." 

His  tone  was  resolute.  He  saw  a  spark  of  fire  in 
her  eye,  but  he  did  not  quail. 

"I  shall  turn  my  back,"  he  added,  "and  if  the  papers 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  A   WOMAN  79 

are  not  produced  in  one  minute's  time  I  shall  begin 
my  search." 

"Would  you  dare?"  she  asked  with  flashing  eyes. 

"I  certainly  would,"  he  replied.  "I  trust  that  I 
know  my  duty." 

But  in  a  moment  the  light  in  her  eyes  changed. 
The  look  there  was  an  appeal,  and  it  expressed  confi- 
dence, too.  Prescott  felt  a  strange  tremour.  Her 
glance  rested  full  upon  him  and  it  was  strangely  soft 
and  pathetic. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  she  said,  "upon  my  honour — 
by  the  memory  of  my  mother,  I  have  no  papers." 

"Then  what  have  you  done  with  them?"  said 
Prescott. 

"I  have  never  had  any." 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  He  believed  and 
yet  he  did  not.  But  her  eyes  shone  with  the  light  of 
purity  and  truth. 

"Then  why  are  you  out  here  at  such  an  hour,  seek- 
ing to  escape  from  Richmond  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Lest  I  bring  harm  to  another,"  she  said  proudly. 

Prescott  laughed  slightly  and  at  once  he  saw  a 
deep  flush  dye  her  face,  and  then  involuntarily  he 
made  an  apology,  feeling  that  he  was  in  the  presence 
of  one  who  was  his  equal. 

"But  I  must  have  those  papers,"  he  said. 

"Then  keep  your  threat,"  she  said,  and  folding  her 
arms  proudly  across  her  breast  she  regarded  him  with 
a  look  of  fire. 

Prescott  felt  the  blood  rising  in  his  face.  He  could 
not  fulfil  his  menace  and  now  he  knew  it. 

"Come,"  he  said  abruptly,  "you  must  go  back  to 
Richmond  with  me.  I  can  take  you  safely  past  the 
earthworks  and  back  to  the  house  from  which  you 
came ;  there  my  task  shall  end,  but  not  my  duty." 

However,  he  comforted  himself  with  the  thought 
that  she  had  not  passed  the  last  line  of  defenses  and 
perhaps  could  not  do  so  at  another  time. 

The  girl  said  nothing,  but  walked  obediently  beside 
him,  tall,  straight  and  strong.  She  seemed  now  to  be 
subdued  and  ready  to  go  wherever  he  directed. 

Prescott  recognized  that  his  own  position  in  follow- 


8o  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

ing  the  course  that  he  had  chosen  was  doubtful. 
He  might  turn  her  over  to  the  nearest  military  post 
and  then  his  troubles  concerning  her  would  be  at  an 
end;  but  he  could  not  choose  that  alternative  save  as  a 
last  resort.  She  had  made  an  appeal  to  him  and  she 
was  a  woman,  a  woman  of  no  ordinary  type. 

The  night  was  far  gone,  but  the  moon  was  full,  and 
now  spread  its  veil  of  silver  mist  over  all  the  hills  and 
fields.  The  earth  swam  in  an  unreal  light  and  again 
the  woman  beside  Prescott  became  unreal,  too.  He 
felt  that  if  he  should  reach  out  his  hand  and  touch  her 
he  would  touch  nothing  but  air,  and  then  he  smiled 
to  himself  at  such  a  trick  of  fancy. 

"I  have  given  you  my  name,"  he  said.  "Now 
what  shall  I  call  you?" 

"Let  it  go  for  the  time,"  she  replied. 

"I  must,  since  I  have  no  way  to  compel  you,"  he 
said. 

They  approached  the  inner  line  of  earthworks 
through  which  they  had  passed  in  the  flight  and  pur- 
suit, and  now  Prescott  felt  it  his  duty  to  find  the  way 
back,  without  pausing  to  reflect  on  the  strangeness 
of  the  fact  that  he,  a  Confederate  soldier,  was  seeking 
to  escape  the  notice  of  the  Confederate  pickets  for  the 
sake  of  a  spy  belonging  to  the  other  side. 

They  saw  again  the  sentinels  -walking  back  and 
forth,  gun  on  shoulder,  and  waiting  until  they  were 
farthest  apart,  Prescott  touched  the  woman  on  the 
arm.  "Now  is  our  time,"  he  said,  and  they  slid  with 
soundless  footsteps  between  the  sentinels  and  back 
into  Richmond. 

"That  was  well  done!"  said  Prescott  joyfully. 
"You  can  shut  an  army  out  of  a  town,  but  you  can't 
close  the  way  to  one  man  or  two." 

"Captain  Prescott,"  said  the  girl,  "you  have 
brought  me  back  into  Richmond.  Why  not  let  me  go 
now?" 

"I  take  you  to  the  house  from  which  you  came," 
he  replied. 

"That  is  your  Southern  chivalry,"  she  said,  "the 
chivalry  of  which  I  have  heard  so  much." 

He  was  stung  by  the  keen  irony  in  her  tone.     She 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  A  WOMAN  81 

had  seemed  to  him,  for  awhile,  so  humble  and  appeal- 
ing that  he  had  begun  to  feel,  in  a  sense,  her 
protector,  and  he  did  not  expect  a  jeer  at  the  expense 
of  himself  and  his  section.  He  had  been  merciful  to 
her,  too!  He  had  sacrificed  himself  and  perhaps 
injured  his  cause  that  he  might  spare  her. 

"Is  a  woman  who  plays  the  part  of  a  spy,  a  part 
that  most  men  would  scorn,  entitled  to  much  consid- 
eration ?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

She  regarded  him  with  a  cold  stare,  and  her  figure 
stiffened  as  he  had  seen  it  stiffen  once  before. 

"I  am  not  a  spy,"  she  said,  "and  I  may  have 
reasons,  powerful  reasons,  of  which  you  know  nothing, 
for  this  attempted  flight  from  Richmond  to-night," 
she  replied;  "but  that  does  not  mean  that  I  will 
explain  them  to  you." 

Prescott  stiffened  in  his  turn  and  said  with  equal 
coldness : 

"I  request  you,  Madam  or  Miss,  whichever  you 
may  be,  to  come  with  me  at  once,  as  we  waste  time 
here." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  silent  city,  lying  then 
under  the  moonlight,  back  to  the  little  street  in 
which  stood  the  wooden  cottage,  neither  speaking  on 
the  way.  They  passed  nobody,  not  oven  a  dog 
howled  at  them,  and  when  they  stood  before  the 
cottage  it,  too,  was  dark  and  silent.  Then  Prescott 
said: 

"I  do  not  know  who  lives  there  and  I  do  not  know 
who  you  are,  but  I  shall  consider  my  task  ended, 
for  the  present  at  least,  when  its  doors  hide  you  from 
me." 

He  spoke  in  the  cold,  indifferent  tone  that  he  had 
assumed  when  he  detected  the  irony  in  her  voice. 
But  now  she  changed  again. 

"Perhaps  I  owe  you  some  thanks,  Captain  Prescott," 
she  said. 

"Perhaps,  but  you  need  not  give  them.  I  trust, 
madam,  and  I  do  not  say  it  with  any  intent  of  impo- 
liteness, that  we  shall  never  meet  again." 

"You  speak  wisely,  Captain  Prescott,"  she  said. 

But  she  raised  the  hood  that  hid  her  brow  and  gave 


82  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

him  a  glance  from  dark  blue  eyes  that  a  second  time 
brought  to  Prescott  that  strange  tremour  at  once 
a  cause  of  surprise  and  anger.  Then  she  opened  the 
door  of  the  cottage  and  disappeared  within. 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  the  street  looking 
at  the  little  house  and  then  he  hurried  to  his  home. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  COTTAGE  IN  THE  SIDE  STREET 

Prescott  rose  the  next  morning  with  an  uneasy 
weight  upon  his  mind — the  thought  of  the  prisoner 
whom  he  had  taken  the  night  before.  He  was  unable 
to  imagine  how  a  woman  of  her  manner  and  presence 
had  ever  ventured  upon  such  an  enterprise,  and  he 
contrasted  her — with  poor  results  for  the  unknown — 
with  Helen  Harley,  who  was  to  him  the  personification 
of  all  that  was  delicate  and  feminine. 

After  the  influence  of  her  eyes,  her  beauty  and  her 
voice  was  gone,  his  old  belief  that  she  was  really  the 
spy  and  had  stolen  the  papers  returned.  She  had 
made  a  fool  of  him  by  that  pathetic  appeal  to  his 
mercy  and  by  a  simulated  appearance  of  truth. 
Now  in  the  cold  air  of  the  morning  he  felt  a  deep 
chagrin.  But  the  deed  was  past  and  could  not  be 
undone,  and  seeking  to  dismiss  it  from  his  mind  he 
went  to  breakfast. 

His  mother,  as  he  had  expected,  asked  him  nothing 
about  his  late  absence  the  night  before,  but  spoke  of 
the  reception  to  General  Morgan  and  the  golden  haze 
that  it  cast  over  Richmond. 

"Have  you  noticed,  Robert,"  she  asked,  "that  we 
see  complete  victory  for  the  South  again?  I  ask 
you  once  more  how  many  men  did  General  Morgan 
bring  with  him  ?" 

1 '  I  don 't  know  exactly ,  mother.     Ten ,  perhaps . ' ' 

"And  they  say  that  General  Grant  will  have  a 
hundred  thousand  new  troops." 

Prescott  laughed. 

"At  that  rate,  mother,"  he  replied,  "the  ten  will 
have  to  whip  the  hundred  thousand,  which  is  a  heavier 
proportion  than  the  old  one,  of  one  Southern  gentle- 
man to  five  Yankees.  But,  seriously,  a  war  is  not 

83 


84  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

won  by  mere  mathematics.  It  is  courage,  enthusiasm 
and  enterprise  that  count." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  poured  him  another  cup  of 
coffee.  Prescott  read  her  thoughts  with  ease.  He 
knew  that  though  hers  had  been  a  Southern  husband 
and  hers  were  a  Southern  son  and  a  Southern  home, 
her  heart  was  loyal  to  the  North,  and  to  the  cause 
that  she  considered  the  cause  of  the  whole  Union 
and  of  civilization. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  the  breakfast  being  finished, 
"I've  found  it  pleasant  here  with  you  and  in  Richmond, 
but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  stay  much  longer.  My  shoulder 
is  almost  cured  now." 

He  swung  his  arm  back  and  forth  to. show  how 
well  it  was. 

"But  isn't  there  some  pain  yet  ?"  she  asked. 

Prescott  smiled  a  little.  He  saw  the  pathos  in  the 
question,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"No,  mother,"  he  replied,  "there  is  no  pain.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  sententious,  but  this  is  the  death- 
grapple  that  is  coming.  They  will  need  me  and 
every  one  out  there." 

He  waved  his  hand  toward  the  north  and  his 
mother  hid  a  little  sigh. 

Prescott  remained  at  home  all  the  morning,  but 
in  the  afternoon  he  went* to  Winthrop's  newspaper 
office,  having  a  direct  question  in  mind. 

"Has  anything  more  been  heard  of  the  stolen 
papers  ?"  he  asked  of  Winthrop. 

"So  far  as  I  can  learn,  nothing,"  replied  the  editor; 
"but  it's  altogether  likely  that  whoever  took  them 
has  been  unable  to  escape  from  the  city.  Besides, 
I  understand  that  these  plans  were  not  final  and  the 
matter  may  not  be  so  serious  after  all." 

It  seemed  to  Prescott  in  a  moment  of.  cold  reason 
that  the  affair  might  well  end  now,  but  his  desire  would 
not  have  it  so.  He  was  seized  with  a  wish  to  know 
more  about  that  house  and  the  woman  in  it.  Who 
was  she,  why  was  she  here,  and  what  would  be  her 
fate? 

The  afternoon  passed  slowly,  and  when  the  night 
was  advanced  he  set  out  upon  his  errand,  resolved 


THE   COTTAGE   IN   THE   SIDE   STREET  85 

that  he  would  not  do  it,  and  yet  knowing  that  he 
would. 

The  little  house  was  as  silent  and  dark  as  ever, 
doors  and  shutters  tightly  closed.  He  watched  it 
more  than  an  hour  and  saw  no  sign  of  life.  She 
must  have  gone  from  the  city,  he  thought,  and  so 
concluding,  he  was  about  to  turn  away,  when  a  hand 
was  laid  lightly  upon  his  arm.  It  was  the  woman  in 
brown,  and  the  look  upon  her  face  was  not  all  of 
surprise.  It  occurred  suddenly  to  Prescott  that  she 
had  expected  him,  and  he  wondered  why.  But  his 
first  question  was  rough. 

"What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing  that  I  wish,"  she  replied,  the  faintest 
trace  of  humour  showing  in  her  tone;  "much  that  I  do 
not  wish.  The  reproof  that  your  voice  conveys  is 
unwarranted.  I  have  tried  again  to  leave  Richmond, 
but  I  cannot  get  past  the  outer  lines  of  defenses.  I 
am  the  involuntary  guest  of  the  rebel  capital." 

"Hardly  that,"  replied  Prescott,  still  somewhat 
roughly.  He  did  not  relish  her  jaunty  tone,  although 
he  was  much  relieved  to  know  that  she  could  not 
escape.  "You  came  uninvited,  and  you  have  no  right 
to  complain  because  you  cannot  leave  when  you 
wish." 

"  I  see  that  I  am  in  the  presence  of  a  sincere  rebel 
patriot,"  she  said  with  irony,  "and  I  did  not  know 
before  that  the  words  'rebel'  and  'patriot'  could  go 
together  so  easily. " 

"  I  think  that  I  should  surrender  you  to  the  author- 
ities, "  said  Prescott. 

"But  you  will  not,"  she  said  with  conviction. 
"Your  conscience  would  reproach  you  too  much. " 

Prescott  was  silent,  uncertain  what  to  say  or  to  do. 
The  woman  annoyed  him,  and  yet  he  did  not  conceal 
from  himself  that  the  slight  protecting  feeling,  born 
of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  woman  and,  it  seemed, 
helpless,  remained  in  his  mind. 

"Are  you  alone  in  that  house?"  he  asked,  still 
speaking  curtly  and  pointing  toward  the  wooden 
cottage. 

"  No, "  she  replied. 


86  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Prescott  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  He  thought 
that  he  detected  the  faintest  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 
Could  it  be  that  a  woman  in  such  a  position  was 
laughing  at  the  man  who  had  helped  her?  He  felt 
his  face  grow  red. 

"You  wish  to  know  who  is  there?"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  know  anything  of  the  kind. " 

"You  do,  and  I  shall  tell  you.  It  is  merely  a 
woman,  an  old  maid,  perhaps  as  friendless  as  myself, 
Miss  Charlotte  Grayson.  I  need  not  add  that  she  is 
a  woman  of  right  mind  and  sympathies. " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? " 

"She  wishes  to  see  the  quick  end  of  this  hateful 
rebellion.  Oh,  I  tell  you  there  are  many  who  think 
as  she  does,  born  and  bred  within  the  limits  of  this 
Confederacy.  They  are  far  more  numerous  than  you 
rebels  suspect." 

She  spoke  with  sudden  fire  and  energy,  and  Prescott 
noticed  again  that  abrupt  stiffening  of  the  figure. 
He  saw,  too,  another  curious  effect — her  eyes  suddenly 
turned  from  dark-blue  to  black,  an  invariable  change 
when  she  was  moved  by  a  passion. 

"It  is  always  safe  for  a  woman  to  abuse  a  man," 
replied  Prescott  calmly. 

"  I  am  not  attacking  you,  but  the  cause  you  serve — 
a  hateful  cause.  How  can  honest  men  fight  for  it  ?" 
she  said. 

Prescott  heard  footsteps  in  the  main  street — it 
was  not  many  yards  from  there  to  the  point  in  the 
little  side  street  where  he  stood — and  he  shrank  back 
in  the  shadow  of  the  fence. 

"You  do  not  wish  to  be  seen  with  me, "  she  said. 

"Naturally,"  replied  Prescott.  "I  might  have  to 
answer  inquiries  about  you,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
compromise  myself. " 

"Nor  me?"  she  said. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  too  late  for  that, "  replied  Prescott. 

Her  face  flushed  scarlet,  and  again  he  saw  that 
sudden  change  of  the  eyes  from  dark-blue  to  threat- 
ening black.  It  occurred  to  him  then  that  she  was 
handsome  in  a  singular,  challenging  way. 

"  Why  do  you  insult  me  ? "  she  asked. 


THE   COTTAGE    IN   THE   SIDE   STREET  87 

"I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  done  so,"  he  replied 
coolly.  "  Your  pursuits  are  of  such  a  singular  nature 
that  I  merely  made  some  slight  comment  thereon. " 

She  changed  again  and  under  drooping  eyelids  gave 
him  that  old  imploring  look,  like  the  appeal  of  a  child 
for  protection. 

"I  am  ungrateful,"  she  said,  "and  I  give  your 
words  a  meaning  that  you  do  not  intend.  But  I  am 
here  at  this  moment  because  I  was  just  returning 
from  another  vain  attempt  to  escape  from  the  city — 
not  for  myself,  I  tell  you  again,  and  not  with  any 
papers  belonging  to  your  Government,  but  for  the 
sake  of  another.  Listen,  there  are  soldiers  passing. " 

It  was  the  tread  of  a  company  going  by  and  Prescott 
shrank  still  farther  back  into  the  shadow.  He  felt 
for  the  moment  a  chill  in  his  bones,  and  he  imagined 
what  must  be  the  dread  of  a  traitor  on  the  eve  of 
detection.  What  would  his  comrades  say  of  him  if 
they  caught  him  here?  As  the  woman  came  close 
to  him  and  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  he  was  con- 
scious again  of  the  singular  thrill  that  shot  through 
him  whenever  she  touched  him.  She  affected  him 
as  no  other  woman  had  ever  done — nor  did  he  know 
whether  it  was  like  or  dislike.  There  was  an  uncanny 
fascination  about  her  that  attracted  him,  even  though 
he  endeavoured  to  shake  it  off. 

The  tread  of  the  company  grew  louder,  but  the  night 
was  otherwise  still.  The  moon  silvered  the  soldiers 
as  they  passed,  and  Prescott  distinctly  saw  their 
features  as  he  hid  there  in  the  dark  like  a  spy,  fearing 
to  be  seen.  Then  he  grew  angry  with  himself  and  he 
shook  the  woman's  hand  from  his  arm;  it  had  rested 
as  lightly  as  dew. 

"  I  think  that  you  had  better  go  back  to  Miss 
Charlotte  Grayson,  whoever  she  may  be, "  he  said. 

"But  one  cannot  stay  there  forever." 

"That  does  not  concern  me.  Why  should  it? 
Am  I  to  care  for  the  safety  of  those  who  are  fighting 
me?" 

"  But  do  you  stop  to  think  what  you  are  fighting 
for?"  She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  her  eyes 
were  glowing  as  she  asked  the  question.  "Do  you 


88  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

ever  stop  to  think  what  you  are  fighting  for,  the 
wrong  that  you  do  by  fighting  and  the  greater  wrong 
that  you  will  do  if  you  succeed,  which  a  just  God  will 
not  let  happen?" 

She  spoke  with  such  vehement  energy  that  Prescott 
was  startled.  He  was  well  enough  accustomed  to 
controversy  about  the  right  or  wrong  of  the  war,  but 
not  under  such  circumstances  as  these. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "we  soldiers  don't  stop  in  the 
middle  of  a  battle  to  argue  this  question,  and  you  can 
hardly  expect  me  to  do  so  now. " 

She  did  not  reply,  but  the  fire  still  lingered  in  her 
eyes.  The  company  passed,  their  tread  echoed  down 
the  street,  then  died  away. 

"You  are  safe  now,"  she  said,  with  the  old  touch 
of  irony  in  her  voice;  "they  will  not  find  you  here  with 
me,  so  why  do  you  linger  ? " 

"It  may  be  because  you  are  a  woman,"  replied 
Prescott,  "that  I  overlook  the  fact  of  your  being  a 
secret  and  disguised  enemy  of  my  people.  I  wish  to 
see  you  safely  back  in  the  house  there  with  your 
friends. " 

"  Good-night, "  she  said  abruptly,  and  she  slid  away 
from  him  with  soundless  tread.  He  had  noticed  her 
noiseless  walk  before,  and  it  heightened  the  effect  of 
weird  mystery. 

She  passed  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  disappearing 
within,  and  Prescott  went  away.  When  he  came 
back  in  a  half-hour  he  noticed  a  light  shining  through 
one  window  of  the  little  house,  and  it  seemed  more 
natural  to  him,  as  if  its  tenant,  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson, 
had  no  reason  to  hide  her  own  existence.  Prescott 
was  not  fond  of  secrecy — his  whole  nature  was  open, 
and  with  a  singular  sense  of  relief  he  turned  away  for 
the  second  time,  going  to  Winthrop's  office,  where  he 
hoped  to  find  more  congenial  friends. 

Raymond,  as  he  expected,  was  there  with  his 
brother  editor,  and  so  was  Wood,  the  big  cavalryman, 
who  regarded  Robert  for  a  moment  with  an  eye 
coldly  critical.  Raymond  and  Winthrop,  who  stood 
by,  knew  the  cause,  but  Wood  quickly  relaxed  and 
greeted  with  warmth  the  addition  to  the  party. 


THE   COTTAGE   IN  THE   SIDE   STREET  89 

Others  came  in,  and  soon  a  dozen  men  who  knew 
and  liked  each  other  well  were  gathered  about  the- 
stove,  talking  in  the  old  friendly  Southern  way  and 
exchanging  opinions  with  calm  certainty  on  all  recon- 
dite subjects. 

After  awhile  Winthrop,  who  passed  near  the 
window  on  some  errand,  exclaimed: 

"Gentlemen,  behold  Richmond  in  her  bridal  veil." 

They  looked  out  and  saw  the  city,  streets  and  roofs 
alike,  sheeted  in  gleaming  white.  The  snow  which 
had  come  down  so  softly  spoke  only  of  peace  and 
quietness. 

"It's  battle  smoke,  not  a  bridal  veil,  that  Richmond 
must  look  for  now,"  said  Wood,  "an"  it's  a  pity." 

There  was  a  touch  of  sentiment  in  his  voice,  and 
Prescott  looked  at  him  with  approval.  As  for  him- 
self, he  was  thinking  at  that  moment  of  an  unknown 
woman  in  a  brown,  wooden  cottage.  With  the  city 
snowed-in  she  might  find  the  vigilance  of  the  senti- 
nels relaxed,  but  a  flight  through  the  frozen  wilderness 
would  be  impossible  for  her.  He  was  angry  at 
himself  again  for  feeling  concern  when  he  should  be 
relieved  that  she  could  not  escape;  but,  after,  all  she 
was  a  woman. 

"Why  so  grave,  Prescott?"  asked  Raymond.  "A 
heavy  snow  like  this  is  all  in  our  favour,  since  we 
stand  on  the  defensive;  it  makes  it  more  difficult  for 
the  Yankee  army  to  move." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  something  else,"  replied 
Prescott  truthfully.  "I  am  going  home  now,"  he 
added.  "Good-night." 

As  he  passed  out  into  the  street  the  snow  was 
still  falling,  soon  covering  his  cap  and  military  cloak, 
and  clothing  him,  like  the  city,  in  a  robe  of  white. 

Raymond  had  said  truthfully  that  a  deep  snow 
was  to  the  advantage  of  the  South,  but  as  for  himself, 
he  resolved  that  on  the  next  day  he  would  investigate 
the  identity  of  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson. 

Prescott  knew  to  whom  it  was  best  to  turn  for 
information  in  regard  to  the  mysterious  Charlotte 
Grayson,  and  in  the  doing  so  it  was  not  necessary  for 
him  to  leave  his  own  home.  His  mother  was  likely 


9o  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

to  know  everybody  at  all  conspicuous  in  Richmond, 
as  under  her  peaceful  exterior  she  concealed  a  shrewd 
and  inquiring  mind. 

"Mother,"  he  said  to  her  the  next  day  as  they  sat 
before  the  fire,  "  did  you  ever  hear  of  any  lady  named 
Miss  Charlotte  Grayson?" 

She  was  knitting  for  the  soldiers  at  the  front,  but 
she  let  the  needles  drop  with  a  faint  click  into  her  lap. 

"  Grayson,  Charlotte  Grayson  ? "  she  said.  "  Is  that 
the  name  of  a  new  sweetheart  of  yours,  Robert?" 

"No,  mother,"  replied  he  with  a  laugh;  "it  is  the 
name  of  somebody  whom  I  have  never  seen  so  far  as 
I  know,  and  of  whom  I  never  heard  until  a  day  or 
two  ago." 

"  I  recall  the  woman  of  whom  you  speak,"  she  said, 
"an  old  maid  without  any  relatives  or  any  friends  in 

? articular.  She  was  a  seamstress  here  before  the  war. 
t  was  said  that  she  went  North  at  its  outbreak, 
and  as  she  was  a  Northern  sympathizer  it  would  seem 
likely;  but  she  was  a  good  seamstress;  she  made  me 
a  mantle  once  and  I  never  saw  a  better  in  Richmond." 

She  waited  for  her  son  to  offer  an  explanation  of  his 
interest  in  the  whilom  seamstress,  but  as  he  did  not 
do  so  she  asked  no  questions,  though  regarding  him 
covertly. 

He  rose  and,  going  to  the  window,  looked  out  at  the 
deep  and  all  but  untrodden  snow. 

"Richmond  is  in  white,  mother,"  he  said,  "and  it 
will  postpone  the  campaign  which  all  Southern 
women  dread." 

"I  know,"  she  replied;  "but  the  battle  must  come 
sooner  or  later,  and  a  snow  in  Richmond  means  more 
coal  and  wood  to  buy.  Do  you  ever  think,  Robert, 
what  such  questions  as  these,  so  simple  in  peace, 
mean  now  to  Richmond?" 

"I  did  not  for  the  moment,  mother,"  he  replied, 
his  face  clouding,  "but  I  should  have  thought  of  it. 
You  mean  that  coal  and  wood  are  scarce  and  money 
still  scarcer?" 

She  bowed  her  head,  for  it  was  a  very  solemn  truth 
she  had  spoken.  The  coil  of  steel  with  which  the 
North  had  belted  in  the  South  was  beginning  to  press 


THE   COTTAGE   IN   THE   SIDE   STREET  91 

tighter  and  tighter  during  that  memorable  winter.  At 
every  Southern  port  the  Northern  fleets  were  on 
guard,  and  the  blockade  runners  slipped  past  at 
longer  and  longer  intervals.  It  was  the  same  on  land ; 
everywhere  the  armies  of  the  North  closed  in,  and 
besides  fire  and  sword,  starvation  now  threatened  the 
Confederacy. 

There  was  not  much  news  from  the  field  to  dispel 
the  gloom  in  the  South.  The  great  battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga  had  been  won  not  long  before,  but  it  was  a 
barren  victory.  There  were  no  more  Fredericksburgs 
nor  Chancellorsvilles  to  rejoice  over.  Gettysburg 
had  come;  the  genius  of  Lee  himself  had  failed; 
Jackson  was  dead  and  no  one  had  arisen  to  take  his 
place. 

There  were  hardships  now  more  to  be  feared  than 
mere  battles.  The  men  might  look  forward  to  death 
in  action,  and  not  know  what  would  become  of  the 
women  and  children.  The  price  of  bread  was  steadily 
rising,  and  the  value  of  Confederate  money  was  going 
down  with  equal  steadiness. 

The  soldiers  in  the  field  often  walked  barefoot 
through  the  snow,  and  in  summer  they  ate  the  green 
corn  in  the  fields,  glad  to  get  even  so  little;  but  they 
were  not  sure  that  those  left  behind  would  have  as 
much.  They  were  conscious,  too,  that  the  North, 
the  sluggish  North,  which  had  been  so  long  in  putting 
forth  its  full  strength,  was  now  preparing  for  an  effort 
far  greater  than  any  that  had  gone  before.  The 
incompetent  generals,  the  tricksters  and  the  sluggards 
were  gone,  and  battle-tried  armies  led  by  real  generals 
were  coming  in  numbers  that  would  not  be  denied. 

At  such  a  time  as  this,  when  the  cloud  had  no  frag- 
ment of  a  silver  lining,  the  spirit  of  the  South  glowed 
with  its  brightest  fire — a  spectacle  sometimes  to  be 
seen  even  though  a  cause  be  wrong. 

"Mother,"  said  Prescott,  and  there  was  a  touch  of 
defiance  in  his  tone,  "do  you  not  know  that  the  threat 
of  cold  and  hunger,  the  fear  that  those  whom  we  love 
are  about  to  suffer  as  much  as  ourselves,  will  only 
nerve  us  to  greater  efforts?" 

"I  know,"  she  replied,  but  he  did  not  hear  her  sigh. 


92  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

He  felt  that  his  stay  in  Richmond  was  now  shorten- 
ing fast,  but  there  was  yet  one  affair  on  his  mind  to 
which  he  must  attend,  and  he  went  forth  for  a  begin- 
ning. His  further  inquiries,  made  with  caution  in 
the  vicinity,  disclosed  the  fact  that  Miss  Charlotte 
Grayson,  the  occupant  of  the  wooden  cottage,  and 
the  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson  whom  his  mother  had 
in  mind,  were  the  same.  But  he  could  discover  little 
else  concerning  her  or  her  manner  of  life,  save  an 
almost  positive  assurance  that  she  had  not  left 
Richmond  either  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  nor  since. 
She  had  been  seen  in  the  streets,  rarely  speaking  to 
any  one,  and  at  the  markets  making  a  few  scanty 
purchases  and  preserving  the  same  silence,  ascribed, 
it  was  said,  to  the  probable  belief  on  her  part  that  she 
would  be  persecuted  because  of  her  known  Northern 
sympathies.  Had  any  one  been  seen  with  her?  No; 
she  lived  all  alone  in  the  little  house. 

Such  were  the  limits  of  the  knowledge  achieved  by 
Prescott,  and  for  lack  of  another  course  he  chose  the 
direct  way  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  little  house, 
being  compelled  to  repeat  his  summons  twice  before 
it  was  answered.  Then  the  door  was  opened  slightly; 
but  with  a  soldier's  boldness  he  pushed  in  and  con- 
fronted a  thin,  elderly  woman,  who  did  not  invite 
him  to  be  seated. 

Prescott  took  in  the  room  and  its  occupant  with  a 
single  glance,  and  the  two  seemed  to  him  to  be  of  a 
piece.  The  former — and  he  knew  instinctively  that 
it  was  Miss  Grayson — was  meager  of  visage  and  figure, 
with  high  cheek  bones,  thin  curls  flat  down  on  her 
temples,  and  a  black  dress  worn  and  old.  The  room 
exhibited  the  same  age  and  scantiness,  the  same 
aspect  of  cold  poverty,  with  its  patched  carpet  and 
the  slender  fire  smouldering  on  the  hearth. 

She  stood  before  him,  confronting  him  with  a 
manner  in  which  boldness  and  timidity  seemed  to 
be  struggling  with  about  equal  success.  There  was 
a  flush  of  anger  on  her  cheeks,  but  her  lips  were 
trembling. 

"I  am  speaking  to  Miss  Grayson?"  said  Prescott. 

"You  are,  sir,"  she  replied,  "but  I  do  not  know 


THE  COTTAGE   IN   THE   SIDE   STREET  93 

you,  and  I  do  not  know  why  you  have  pushed  your- 
self into  my  house." 

"  My  name  is  Prescott,  Robert  Prescott,  and  I  am 
a  captain  in  the  Confederate  Army,  as  you  may  see 
by  my  uniform." 

He  noticed  that  the  trembling  of  her  lip  increased 
and  she  looked  fearfully  at  him ;  but  the  red  flush  of 
anger  on  her  cheek  deepened,  too  The  chief  impres- 
sion that  she  made  on  Prescott  was  pathetic,  standing 
there  in  her  poverty  of  dress  and  room,  and  he 
hastened  to  add : 

"  But  I  am  here  on  my  own  private  business;  I  have 
not  come  to  annoy  you.  I  merely  want  to  inquire  of  a 
woman,  a  lodger  of  yours." 

"I  have  no  lodgers,"  she  replied;  "I  am  alone." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  be  mistaken,"  said  Prescott; 
"she  told  me  that  she  was  staying  in  this  house." 

"And  may  I  ask  the  name  of  this  lady  who 
knows  more  about  my  own  house  than  I  do?"  asked 
Miss  Grayson  with  unconcealed  sarcasm. 

Prescott  saw  that  her  courage  was  now  getting 
the  better  of  her  timidity.  He  hesitated  and  felt 
his  cheeks  redden. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  was  forced  to  reply. 

Miss  Grayson's  gaze  became  steady  and  trium- 
phant. 

"  Does  it  not  then  occur  to  you,  Captain  Prescott, 
that  you  are  proceeding  upon  a  very  slender  basis 
when  you  doubt  my  word?" 

"It  is  hardly  that,  Miss  Grayson,"  he  replied.  "I 
thought — perhaps — that  it  might  be  an  evasion, 
pardonable  when  it  is  made  for  a  friend  whom  one 
thinks  in  danger." 

His  eye  roamed  around  the  room  again  and  it 
caught  sight  of  something  disclosed  to  him  for  the 
first  time  by  the  sudden  increase  of  the  flickering 
blaze  on  the  hearth.  A  flash  of  triumph  appeared 
in  his  eye  and  his  boldness  and  certainty  returned  to 
him. 

"Miss  Grayson,"  he  said,  "it  is  true  that  I  do  not 
know  the  name  of  the  lady  of  whom  I  speak,  but  I 
have  some  proof  of  her  presence  here." 


94  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Miss  Grayson  started  and  her  lips  began  to  tremble 
again. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"  I  ask  for  the  wearer  of  this,"  said  Prescott,  taking 
a  long  brown  cloak  from  the  chair  on  which  it  lay  and 
holding  it  up  before  Miss  Grayson's  eyes. 

"Then  you  ask  for  me,"  she  replied  bravely;  "the 
cloak  is  mine." 

"  I  have  seen  it  several  times  before,"  said  Prescott, 
"and  it  was  always  worn  by  some  one  else." 

He  looked  significantly  at  her  and  he  saw  again  the 
nervous  trembling  of  the  lip,  but  her  eye  did  not 
quail.  This  woman,  with  her  strange  mingling  of 
timidity  and  courage,  would  certainly  protect  the 
unknown  if  she  could- 

"The  cloak  is  mine,"  she  repeated.  "  It  is  a  ques- 
tion of  veracity  between  you  and  me,  and  are  you 
prepared  to  say  that  you  alone  tell  the  truth?" 

Prescott  hesitated,  not  fancying  this  oblique 
method  of  attack,  but  a  third  person  relieved  them 
both  from  present  embarrassment.  A  door  to  an 
inner  apartment  opened,  and  the  woman  in  brown — 
but  not  in  brown  now — came  into  the  room. 

"You  need  not  conceal  my  presence  any  longer, 
Charlotte,"  said  the  newcomer  impressively.  "I 
thank  you,  but  I  am  sure  that  we  need  no  protection 
from  Captain  Prescott." 

"If  you  think  so,  Lucia,"  replied  Miss  Grayson, 
and  Prescott  distinctly  heard  her  sigh  of  relief — a  sigh 
that  he  could  have  echoed,  as  he  had  begun  to  feel  as 
if  he  were  acting  not  as  a  gentleman,  but  as  a  perse- 
cutor of  a  poor  old  maid.  The  girl — Lucia  was  her 
first  name,  he  had  learned  that  much — confronted 
him,  and  certainly  there  was  no  fear  in  her  gaze. 
Prescott  saw,  too,  at  the  first  glance,  that  she  was 
transformed.  She  was  dressed  in  simple  white,  and 
a  red  rose,  glowing  by  contrast  against  its  whiteness, 
nestled  in  her  throat.  He  remembered  afterward  a 
faint  feeling  of  curiosity  that  in  the  dead  of  winter 
she  should  be  wearing  such  a  rose.  Her  eyes,  black 
when  she  was  angry,  were  now  a  deep,  liquid  blue, 
and  the  faint  firelight  drew  gleams  of  red  or  gold,  he 


THE  COTTAGE   IN   THE   SIDE   STREET  95 

knew  not  which,  from  her  hair;  the  hair  itself  looked 
dark. 

But  it  was  her  presence,  her  indefinable  presence 
that  pervaded  the  room.  The  thin  little  old  maid  was 
quite  lost  in  it,  and  involuntarily  Prescott  found 
himself  bowing  as  if  to  a  great  lady. 

"  I  have  meant  no  harm  by  coming  here,"  he  said; 
"the  secrets  of  this  house  are  safe  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. I  merely  came  to  inquire  after  your  welfare. 
Miss— Mi- 


He  stopped  and  looked  inquiringly  at  her.  A 
faint  smile  curved  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  she 
replied : 

"Catherwood;  I  am  Miss  Lucia  Catherwood,  but 
for  the  present  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

"Catherwood,  Lucia  Catherwood,"  repeated 
Prescott.  "It  is  a  beautiful  name,  like " 

And  then,  breaking  off  abruptly,  warned  by  a 
sudden  lightning  glance  from  her  eyes,  he  walked  to 
the  window  and  pointed  to  the  white  world  outside. 

"I  came  to  tell  you,  Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said, 
"that  the  snow  lies  deep  on  the  ground — you  know 
that  already — but  what  I  wish  to  make  clear  is  the 
impossibility  of  your  present  escape  from  Richmond. 
Even  if  you  passed  the  defenses  you  would  almost 
certainly  perish  in  the  frozen  wilderness." 

"It  is  as  I  told  you,  Lucia,"  said  Miss  Grayson; 
"you  must  not  think  of  leaving.  My  house  is  your 
house,  and  all  that  is  here  is  yours." 

"  I  know  that,  Charlotte, "  replied  Miss  Catherwood, 
"but  I  cannot  take  the  bread  from  your  mouth  nor 
can  I  bring  new  dangers  upon  you. " 

She  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  low  tone,  but  Prescott 
heard  her  nevertheless.  What  a  situation,  he  thought ; 
and  he,  a  Confederate  soldier,  was  a  party  to  it !  Here 
in  the  dim  little  room  were  two  women  of  another 
belief,  almost  another  land,  and  around  them  lay 
the  hostile  city.  He  felt  a  thrill  of  pity;  once  more 
he  believed  her  claim  that  she  did  not  take  the 
papers ;  and  he  tapped  uneasily  on  the  window  pane 
with  a  long  forefinger. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said  hesitatingly — that  he 


96  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

should  address  her  and  not  Miss  Grayson  seemed 
entirely  proper — "  I  scarcely  know  why  I  am  here, 
but  I  wish  to  repeat  that  I  did  not  come  with  any 
bad  intent.  I  am  a  Confederate  soldier,  but  the 
Confederacy  is  not  yet  so  far  reduced  that  it  needs 
to  war  on  women. " 

Yet  he  knew  as  he  spoke  that  he  had  believed  her 
a  spy  and  his  full  duty  demanded  that  he  deliver  her 
to  his  Government;  but  perhaps  there  was  a  differ- 
ence between  one's  duty  and  one's  full  duty. 

"  I  merely  wished  to  know  that  you  were  safe  here, " 
he  continued,  "and  now  I  shall  go.  " 

"We  thank  you  for  your  forbearance,  Captain 
Prescott,"  said  the  elder  woman,  but  the  younger 
said  nothing,  and  Prescott  waited  a  moment,  hoping 
that  she  would  do  so.  Still  she  did  not  speak,  and  as 
she  moved  toward  the  door  she  did  not  offer  her  hand. 

"She  has  no  thanks  for  me,  after  all  that  I  have 
done,"  thought  Prescott,  and  there  was  a  little  flame 
of  anger  in  his  heart.  Why  should  he  trouble  him- 
self about  her? 

"Ladies,"  he  said,  with  an  embarrassed  air,  "you 
will  pardon  me  if  I  open  the  door  an  inch  or  two  and 
look  out  before  I  go.  You  understand  why. " 

"Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Miss  Catherwood,  and 
again  that  faint  smile  lurked  for  a  moment  in  the 
corners  of  her  mouth.  "  We  are  Pariahs,  and  it  would 
ill  suit  the  fair  fame  of  Captain  Prescott  to  be  seen 
coming  from  this  house. " 

"You  are  of  the  North  and  I  of  the  South  and  that 
is  all,"  said  Prescott,  and,  bowing,  he  left,  forgetting 
in  his  annoyance  to  take  that  precautionary  look 
before  opening  wide  the  door. 

But  the  little  street  was  empty  and  he  walked 
thoughtfully  back  to  his  mother's  house. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE     PALL     OP     WINTER 

The  deep  snow  was  followed  by  the  beginning  of 
a  thaw,  interrupted  by  a  sudden  and  very  sharp 
cold  spell,  when  the  mercury  went  down  to  zero  and 
the  water  from  the  melting  snow  turned  to  ice. 
Richmond  was  encased  in  a  sheath  of  gleaming  white. 
The  cold  wintry  sun  was  reflected  from  roofs  of  ice, 
the  streets  were  covered  with  it,  icicles  hung  like 
rows  of  spears  from  the  eaves,  and  the  human  breath 
smoked  at  the  touch  of  the  air. 

And  as  the  winter  pressed  down  closer  and  heavier 
on  Richmond,  so  did  the  omens  of  her  fate.  Higher 
and  higher  went  the  price  of  food,  and  lower  and 
lower  sank  the  hopes  of  her  people.  Their  momentary 
joy  under  the  influence  of  such  events  as  the  Morgan 
reception  was  like  the  result  of  a  stimulant  or  narcotic, 
quickly  over  and  leaving  the  body  lethargic  and  dull. 
But  this  dullness  had  in  it  no  thought  of  yielding. 

On  the  second  day  of  the  great  cold  all  the  Harleys 
came  over  to  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Prescott  and  her 
son,  and  then  Helen  disclosed  the  fact  that  the 
Government  was  still  assiduous  in  its  search  for  the 
spy  and  the  lost  documents. 

" Mr.  Sefton  thinks  that  we  have  a  clue,"  she  said, 
identifying  herself  with  the  Government  now  by  the 
use  of  the  pronoun. 

Prescott  was  startled  a  little,  but  he  hid  his  sur- 
prise under  a  calm  voice  when  he  asked: 

41  What  is  this  clue,  or  is  it  a  secret  ? " 

44  No,  not  among  us  who  are  so  loyal  to  the  cause, " 
she  replied  innocently;  44and  it  may  be  that  they 
want  it  known  more  widely  because  here  in  Richmond 
we  are  all,  in  a  way,  defenders  of  the  faith — our  faith. 
They  say  that  it  was  a  woman  who  stole  the  papers, 

97 


98  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

a  tall  woman  in  a  brown  dress  and  brown  cloak,  who 
entered  the  building  when  nearly  everybody  was 
gone  to  the  Morgan  reception.  Mr.  Sefton  has 
learned  that  much  from  one  of  the  servants. " 

"Has  he  learned  anything  more?"  asked  Prescott, 
whose  heart  was  beating  in  a  way  that  he  did  not 
like. 

"  No,  the  traces  stop  at  that  point ;  but  Mr.  Sefton 
believes  she  will  be  found.  He  says  she  could  not 
have  escaped  from  the  city. " 

"It  takes  a  man  like  .Sefton  to  follow  the  trail  of  a 
woman,"  interrupted  Colonel  Harley.  "If  it  were 
not  for  the  papers  she  has  I'd  say  let  her  go.  " 

Prescott  had  a  sudden  feeling  of  warmth  for 
Vincent  Harley,  and  he  now  believed  a  good  heart 
to  beat  under  the  man's  vain  nature;  but  that  was 
to  be  expected:  he  was  Helen  Harley 's  brother. 
However,  it  did  not  appeal  to  Helen  that  way. 

"Shouldn't  a  woman  who  does  such  things  suffer 
punishment  like  a  man?"  she  asked. 

"Maybe  so,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "but  I  couldn't 
inflict  it. " 

The  elder  Harley  advanced  no  opinion,  but  he  was 
sure  whatever  Mr.  Sefton  did  in  the  matter  was  right ; 
and  he  believed,  too,  that  the  agile  Secretary  was 
more  capable  than  any  other  man  of  dealing  with  the 
case.  In  fact,  he  was  filled  that  day  with  a  devout 
admiration  of  Mr.  Sefton,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
proclaim  it,  bending  covert  glances  at  his  daughter 
as  he  pronounced  these  praises.  Mr.  Sefton,  he  said, 
might  differ  a  little  in  certain  characteristics  from  the 
majority  of  the  Southern  people,  he  might  be  a  trifle 
shrewder  in  financial  affairs,  but,  after  all,  the  world 
must  come  to  that  view,  and  hard-headed  men  such 
as  he  would  be  of  great  value  when  the  new  Southern 
Republic  began  its  permanent  establishment  and  its 
dealings  with  foreign  nations.  As  for  himself,  he 
recognized  the  fact  that  he  was  not  too  old  to  learn, 
and  Mr.  Sefton  was  teaching  him. 

Prescott  listened  with  outward  respect,  but  the 
words  were  so  much  mist  to  his  brain,  evaporating 
easily.  Nor  did  Mr.  Harley's  obvious  purpose 


THE   PALL   OF  WINTER  99 

trouble  him  as  much  as  it  had  on  previous  occasions, 
the  figure  of  the  Secretary  not  looming  so  large  in 
his  path  as  it  used  to. 

He  was  on  his  way,  two  hours  later,  to  the  little 
house  in  the  side  street,  bending  his  face  to  a  keen 
winter  blast  that  cut  like  the  edge  of  a  knife.  He 
heard  the  wooden  buildings  popping  as  they  con- 
tracted under  the  cold,  and  near  the  outskirts  of  the 
town  he  saw  the  little  fires  burning  where  the  sentinels 
stopped  now  and  then  on  their  posts  to  warm  their 
chilled  fingers.  He  was  resolved  now  to  protect 
Lucia  Catherwood.  The  belief  of  others  that  the 
woman  of  the  brown  cloak  was  guilty  aroused  in  him 
the  sense  of  opposition.  She  must  be  innocent ! 

He  knocked  again  at  the  door,  and  as  before  it  did 
not  yield  until  he  had  knocked  several  times.  It  was 
then  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson  who  appeared,  and  to 
Prescott's  heightened  fancy  she  seemed  thinner  and 
more  acidulous  than  ever.  There  was  less  of  fear  in 
her  glance  than  when  he  came  the  first  time,  but 
reproach  took  its  place,  and  was  expressed  so  strongly 
that  Prescott  exclaimed  at  once: 

"I  do  not  come  to  annoy  you,  Miss  Grayson, 
but  merely  to  inquire  after  yourself  and  your 
friend,  Miss  Catherwood." 

Then  he  went  in,  uninvited,  and  looked  about  the 
room.  Nothing  was  changed  except  the  fire,  which 
was  lower  and  feebler;  it  seemed  to  Prescott  that  the 
two  or  three  lumps  of  coal  on  the  hearth  were  hugging 
each  other  for  scant  comfort,  and  even  as  he  looked 
at  it  the  timbers  of  the  house  popped  with  the  cold. 

"Miss  Catherwood  is  still  with  you,  is  she  not?" 
asked  Prescott.  "  My  errand  concerns  her,  and  it  is 
for  her  good  that  I  have  come. " 

"Why  do  you,  a  Confederate  officer,  trouble  your- 
self about  a  woman  who,  you  say,  has  acted  as  a  spy 
for  the  North?"  asked  Miss  Grayson,  pointedly. 

Prescott  hesitated  and  flushed.     Then  he  answered : 

"I  hope,  Miss  Grayson,  that  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  overlook  a  woman  in  distress. " 

His  eyes  wandered  involuntarily  to  the  feeble  fire, 
and  then  in  its  turn  the  thin  face  of  Miss  Grayson 


ioo  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

flushed.  For  a  moment,  in  her  embarrassment,  she 
looked  almost  beautiful. 

"Miss  Catherwood  is  still  here,  is  she  not?" 
repeated  Prescott.  "  I  assure  you  that  I  came  in  her 
interest. " 

Miss  Grayson  gave  him  a  look  of  such  keenness  that 
Prescott  saw  again  the  strength  and  penetration 
underlying  her  timid  and  doubtful  manner.  She 
seemed  to  be  reassured  and  replied: 

"  Yes,  she  is  here.     I  will  call  her.  " 

She  disappeared  into  the  next  room  and  presently 
Miss  Catherwood  came  forth  alone.  She  held  her  head 
as  haughtily  as  ever,  and  regarded  him  with  a  look 
in  which  he  saw  much  defiance,  and  he  fancied,  too, 
a  little  disdain. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  she  said  proudly,  "I  am  not 
an  object  for  military  supervision.  " 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  he  replied,  "and  I  do  not 
mean  to  be  impolite,  Miss  Catherwood,  when  I  say 
that  I  regret  to  find  you  still  here. " 

She  pointed  through  the  window  to  the  white  and 
frozen  world  outside. 

"  I  should  be  glad  enough  to  escape, "  she  said,  "but 
that  forbids. " 

"  I  know  it,  or  at  least  I  expected  it, "  said  Prescott, 
"  and  it  is  partly  why  I  am  here.  I  came  to  warn  you." 

"To  warn  me!  Do  I  not  know  that  I  am  in  a 
hostile  city?" 

"But  there  is  more.  The  search  for  those  missing 
papers,  and,  above  all,  for  the  one  who  took  them— 
a  tall  woman  in  a  brown  cloak,  they  say — has  not 
ceased,  nor  will  it;  the  matter  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
crafty,  persistent  man  and  he  thinks  he  has  a  clue. 
He  has  learned,  as  I  learned,  that  a  woman  dressed 
like  you  and  looking  like  you  was  in  the  Government 
building  on  the  day  of  the  celebration.  He  believes 
that  woman  is  still  in  the  city,  and  he  is  sure  that  she 
is  the  one  for  whom  he  seeks. " 

Her  face  blanched ;  he  saw  for  the  first  time  a  trace 
of  feminine  weakness,  even  fear.  It  was  gone,  how- 
ever, like  a  mist  before  a  wind,  as  her  courage  came 
back. 


THE    PALL   OF   WINTER  101 

"  But  this  man,  whoever  he  may  be,  cannot  find  me," 
she  said.  "  I  am  hidden  unless  some  one  chooses  to 
betray  me;  not  that  I  care  for  myself,  but  I  cannot 
involve  my  generous  cousin  in  such  a  trouble." 

Prescott  shook  his  head. 

"  Your  thrust  I  have  not  merited,  Miss  Catherwood," 
he  said.  "  If  I  had  chosen  to  give  you  up  to  the 
authorities  I  should  have  done  so  before  this.  And 
your  confidence  in  your  hiding  place  is  misplaced,  too. 
Richmond  is  small.  It  is  not  a  great  city  like  New 
York  or  Philadelphia,  and  those  who  would  conceal 
a  Northern  spy — I  speak  plainly — are  but  few.  It  is 
easy  to  search  and  find. " 

Prescott  saw  her  tremble  a  little,  although  her  face 
did  not  whiten  again,  nor  did  a  tear  rise  to  her  eye. 
She  went  again  to  the  window,  staring  there  at  the 
frozen  world  of  winter,  and  Prescott  saw  that  a  pur- 
pose was  forming  in  her  mind.  It  was  a  purpose  bold 
and  desperate,  but  he  knew  that  it  would  fail  and  so 
he  spoke.  He  pointed  out  to  her  the  lines  of  defenses 
around  Richmond,  and  the  wilderness  beyond  all, 
buried  under  a  cold  that  chained  sentinels  even  to 
their  fires;  she  would  surely  perish,  even  if  she  passed 
the  watch. 

"But  if  I  were  taken,"  she  said,  "I  should  be 
taken  alone  and  they  would  know  nothing  of  Miss 
Grayson." 

"  But  I  should  never  give  up  hope,"  he  said.  "After 
all,  the  hunted  may  hide,  if  warned,  when  the  hunter 
is  coming. " 

She  gave  him  a  glance,  luminous,  grateful,  so  like  a 
shaft  of  light  passing  from  one  to  another  that  it  set 
Prescott 's  blood  to  leaping. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  she  said,  "I  really  owe  you 
thanks. " 

Prescott  felt  as  if  he  had  been  repaid,  and  afterward 
in  the  coolness  of  his  own  exclusive  company  he  was 
angry  with  himself  for  the  feeling — but  she  stirred  his 
curiosity;  he  was  continually  conscious  of  a  desire  to 
know  what  manner  of  woman  she  was — to  penetrate 
this  icy  mist,  as  it  were,  in  which  she  seemed  to  envelop 
herself. 


102  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

There  was  now  no  pretext  for  him  to  stay  longer, 
but  he  glanced  at  the  fire  which  had  burned  lower 
than  ever,  only  two  coals  hugging  each  other  in  the 
feeble  effort  to  give  forth  heat.  Prescott  was  stand- 
ing beside  a  little  table  and  unconsciously  he  rested 
his  right  hand  upon  it.  But  he  slipped  the  hand  into 
his  pocket,  and  when  he  took  it  out  and  rested  it  upon 
the  table  again  there  was  something  between  the 
closed  fingers. 

Miss  Graysqn  returned  at  this  moment  to  the  room 
and  looked  inquiringly  at  the  two. 

"Miss  Catherwood  will  tell  you  all  that  I  have  said 
to  her,"  said  Prescott,  "and  I  bid  you  both  adieu." 

When  he  lifted  his  hand  from  the  table  he  left 
upon  it  what  the  fingers  had  held,  but  neither  of  the 
women  noticed  the  action. 

Prescott  slipped  into  the  street,  looking  carefully 
to  see  that  he  was  not  observed,  and  annoyed  because 
he  had  to  do  so ;  as  always  his  heart  revolted  at  hidden 
work.  But  Richmond  was  cold  and  desolate,  and 
he  went  back  to  the  heart  of  the  city,  unobserved, 
meaning  to  find  Winthrop,  who  always  knew  the 
gossip,  and  to  learn  if  any  further  steps  had  been 
taken  in  the  matter  of  the  stolen  documents. 

He  found  the  editor  with  plenty  of  time  on  his 
hands  and  an  abundant  inclination  to  talk.  Yes, 
there  was  something.  Mr.  Sefton,  so  he  heard,  meant 
to  make  the  matter  one  of  vital  importance,  and  the 
higher  officers  of  the  Government  were  content  to 
leave  it  to  him,  confident  of  his  ability  and  pertinacity 
and  glad  enough  to  be  relieved  of  such  a  task. 

Prescott,  when  he  heard  this,  gazed  thoughtfully 
at  the  cobwebbed  ceiling.  There  was  yet  no  call 
for  him  to  go  to  the  front,  and  he  would  stay  to  match 
his  wits  against  those  of  the  great  Mr.  Sefton ;  he  had 
been  drawn  unconsciously  into  a  conflict — a  conflict 
of  which  he  was  perhaps  unconscious — and  every 
impulse  in  him  told  him  to  fight. 

When  he  went  to  his  supper  that  evening  he  found 
a  very  small  package  wrapped  in  brown  paper  lying 
unopened  beside  his  plate.  He  knew  it  in  an  instant, 
and  despite  himself  his  face  flooded  with  colour. 


THE    PALL   OF   WINTER  103 

"It  was  left  here  for  you  an  hour  ago,"  said  his 
mother,  who  in  that  moment  achieved  a  triumph 
permitted  to  few  mothers,  burying  a  mighty  curiosity 
under  seeming  indifference. 

"Who  left  it,  mother?"  asked  Prescott,  involun- 
tarily. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  replied.  "There  was 
a  heavy  knock  upon  the  door  while  I  was  busy, 
and  when  I  went  there  after  a  moment's  delay  I 
found  this  lying  upon  the  sill,  but  the  bringer  was 
gone." 

Prescott  put  the  package  in  his  pocket  and  ate 
his  supper  uneasily. 

When  he  was  alone  in  his  room  he  drew  the  tiny 
parcel  from  his  pocket  and  took  off  the  paper, 
disclosing  two  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces,  which  he 
returned  to  his  pocket  with  a  sigh. 

"At  least  I  meant  well,"  he  said  to  himself. 

A  persistent  nature  feeds  on  opposition,  and  the 
failure  of  his  first  attempt  merely  prepared  Prescott 
for  a  second.  The  affair,  too,  began  to  absorb  his 
mind  to  such  an  extent  that  his  friends  noticed  his 
lack  of  interest  in  the  society  and  amusements  of 
Richmond.  He  had  been  well  received  there,  his  own 
connections,  his  new  friends,  and  above  all  his  pleasing 
personality,  exercising  a  powerful  influence;  and, 
coming  from  the  rough  fields  of  war,  he  had  enjoyed 
his  stay  very  keenly. 

But  he  had  a  preoccupation  now,  and  he  was  bent 
upon  doing  what  he  wished  to  do.  Talbot  and  the 
two  editors  rallied  him  upon  his  absence  of  mind,  and 
even  Helen,  despite  her  new  interest  in  Wood,  looked 
a  little  surprised  and  perhaps  a  little  aggrieved 
at  his  inattention;  but  none  of  these  things  had  any 
effect  upon  him.  His  mind  was  now  thrown  for  the 
time  being  into  one  channel,  and  he  could  not  turn 
it  into  another  if  he  wished. 

On  the  next  morning  after  his  failure  he  passed 
again  near  the  little  wooden  house,  the  day  being  as 
cold  as  ever  and  the  smoke  of  many  chimneys  lying  in 
black  lines  against  the  perfect  blue-and- white  heavens. 
He  looked  at  the  chimney  of  the  little  wooden  cottage, 


io4  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

and  there,  too,  was  smoke  coming  forth ;  but  it  was  a 
thin  and  feeble  stream,  scarcely  making  even  a  pale 
blur  against  the  transparent  skies.  The  house  itself 
appeared  to  be  as  cold  and  chilly  as  the  frozen  snow 
outside. 

Prescott  glanced  up  and  down  the  street.  An  old 
man,  driving  a  small  wagon  drawn  by  a  single  horse, 
was  about  to  pass  him.  Prescott  looked  into  the 
body  of  the  wagon  and  saw  that  it  contained  coal. 

"For  sale  ?"  he  asked. 

The  man  nodded. 

"How  much  for  the  lot  ?" 

"Twenty  dollars." 

"Gold  or  Confederate  money  ?" 

The  old  man  blew  his  breath  on  his  red  woolen 
comforter  and  thoughtfully  watched  it  freeze  there, 
then  he  looked  Prescott  squarely  in  the  face  and 
asked : 

"Stranger,  have  you  just  escaped  from  a  lunatic 
asylum  ?' ' 

"Certainly  not !" 

"Then  why  do  you  ask  me  such  a  fool  question  ?" 

Prescott  drew  forth  one  of  the  two  twenty-dollar 
gold  pieces  and  handed  it  to  the  man. 

"I  take  your  coal,"  he  said.  " Now  unload  it  into 
that  little  back  yard  there  and  answer  no  questions. 
Can  you  do  both  ?" 

"Of  course — for  twenty  dollars  in  gold,"  replied  the 
driver. 

Prescott  walked  farther  up  the  street,  but  he 
watched  the  man,  and  saw  him  fulfil  his  bargain,  a 
task  easily  and  quickly  done.  He  tipped  the  coal 
into  the  little  back  yard  of  the  wooden  cottage,  and 
drove  away,  obviously  content  with  himself  and  his 
bargain.  Then  Prescott,  too,  went  his  way,  feeling 
a  pleasant  glow. 

He  came  back  the  next  morning  and  the  coal  lay 
untouched.  The  board  fence  concealed  it  from 
the  notice  of  casual  passers,  and  so  thieves  had  not 
been  tempted.  Those  in  the  house  must  have  seen 
it,  yet  not  a  lump  was  gone;  and  the  feeble  stream 
pf  smoke  from  the  chimney  had  disappeared ;  nothing 


THE   PALL   OF   WINTER  105 

rose  there  to  stain  the  sky.  It  occurred  to  Prescott 
that  both  the  women  might  have  fled  from  the  city, 
but  second  thought  told  him  escape  was  impossible. 
They  must  yet  be  inside  the  house;  and  surely  it 
was  very  cold  there  ! 

He  came  back  the  same  afternoon,  but  the  coal  was 
still  untouched  and  the  cold  gripped  everything  in 
bands  of  iron.  He  returned  a  third  time  the  next 
morning,  slipping  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  high 
board  fence  like  a  thief — he  did  have  a  somewhat 
guilty  conscience — but  when  he  peeped  over  the 
fence  he  uttered  an  exclamation. 

Four  of  the  largest  lumps  of  coal  were  missing ! 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it;  he  had  marked  them 
lying  on  the  top  of  the  heap,  and  distinguished  by 
their  unusual  size. 

"They  are  certainly  gone,"  said  Prescott  to  himself. 

But  it  was  not  thieves.  There  in  the  snow  he  per- 
ceived the  tracks  of  small  feet  leading  from  the  coal- 
heap  to  the  back  door  of  the  house. 

Prescott  felt  a  mighty  sense  of  triumph,  and  gave 
utterance  in  a  low  voice  to  the  un poetic  exclamation : 

"They  had  to  knuckle  !" 

But  there  was  no  smoke  coming  from  the  chimney, 
and  he  knew  they  had  just  taken  the  coal.  "They  !" 
It  was  "she,"  as  there  was  only  one  trail  in  the  snow, 
but  he  wondered  which  one.  He  was  curiously 
inquisitive  on  this  point,  and  he  would  have  given 
much  to  know,  but  he  did  not  dream  of  forcing  an 
entrance  into  the  house;  yes  "forcing"  was  now  the 
word. 

He  was  afraid  to  linger,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  be  seen 
by  anybody  either  inside  or  outside  the  cottage,  and 
went  away ;  but  he  came  back  in  an  hour — that  is,  he 
came  to  the  corner  of  the  street,  where  he  could  see 
the  feeble  column  of  smoke  rising  once  more  from  the 
chimney  of  the  little  wooden  house. 

Then,  beholding  this  faint  and  unintentional  signal, 
he  smote  himself  upon  the  knee,  giving  utterance 
again  to  his  feelings  of  triumph,  and  departed,  consid- 
ering himself  a  young  man  of  perception  and  ability. 
His  amiability  lasted  so  long  that  his  mother  con- 


io6  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

gratulated  him  upon  it,  and  remarked  that  he  must 
have  had  good  news,  but  Prescott  gallantly  attributed 
his  happiness  to  her  presence  alone.  She  said  nothing 
in  reply,  but  kept  her  thoughts  to  herself. 

Inasmuch  as  the  mind  grows  upon  what  it  con- 
sumes, Prescott  was  soon  stricken  with  a  second 
thought,  and  the  next  day  at  twilight  he  bought  as 
obscurely  as  he  could  a  Virginia-cured  ham  and  carried 
it  away,  wrapped  in  brown  paper,  under  his  arm. 

Fortunately  he  met  no  one  who  took' notice,  and 
he  reached  the  little  street  unobserved.  Here  he 
deilberated  with  himself  awhile,  but  concluded  at  last 
to  put  it  on  the  back  door  step. 

"When  they  come  for  coal,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"they  will  see  it,  or  if  they  don't  they  will  fall  over  it, 
if  some  sneak  thief  doesn't  get  it  first." 

He  noticed,  dark  as  it  was,  that  the  little  trail  in 
the  snow  had  grown,  and  in  an  equal  ratio  the  size  of 
the  coal  pile  had  diminished. 

Then  he  crept  away,  looking  about  him  with  great 
care  lest  he  be  seen,  but  some  intuition  sent  him 
back,  and  when  he  stole  along  in  the  shadow  of  the 
fence  he  saw  the  rear  door  of  the  house  open  and  a 
thin,  angular  figure  appear  upon  the  threshold.  It 
was  too  dark  for  him  to  see  the  face,  but  he  knew  it 
to  be  Miss  Grayson.  That  figure  could  not  belong  to 
the  other. 

She  stumbled,  too,  and  uttered  a  low  cry,  and 
Prescott,  knowing  the  cause  of  both,  was  pleased. 
Then  he  saw  her  stoop  and,  raising  his  supply  of  manna 
in  both  her  hands,  unfold  the  wrappings  of  brown 
paper.  She  looked  all  about,  and  Prescott  knew,  in 
fancy,  that  her  gaze  was  startled  and  inquisitive. 
The  situation  appealed  to  him,  flattering  alike  his 
sense  of  pleasure  and  his  sense  of  mystery,  and  again 
he  laughed  softly  to  himself. 

A  cloud  which  had  hidden  it  sailed  past  and  the 
moonlight  fell  in  a  silver  glow  on  the  old  maid's  thin 
but  noble  features;  then  Prescott  saw  a  look  of 
perplexity,  mingled  with  another  look  which  he  did 
not  wholly  understand,  but  which  did  not  seem 
hostile.  She  hesitated  awhile,  fingering  the  package, 


THE    PALL   OF   WINTER  107 

then  she  put  it  back  upon  the  sill  and  beckoned  to 
one  within. 

Prescott  saw  Miss  Catherwood  appear  beside  Miss 
Grayson.  He  could  never  mistake  her — her  height, 
that  proud  curve  of  the  neck  and  the  firm  poise  of 
the  head.  She  wore,  too,  the  famous  brown  cloak — 
thrown  over  her  shoulders.  He  found  a  strange 
pleasure  in  seeing  her  there,  but  he  was  sorry,  too, 
that  Miss  Grayson  had  called  her,  as  he  fancied  now 
that  he  knew  the  result. 

He  saw  them  talking,  the  shrug  of  the  younger 
woman's  shoulders,  the  appealing  gesture  of  the 
older,  and  then  the  placing  of  the  package  upon  the 
sill,  after  which  the  two  retreated  into  the  house 
and  shut  the  door. 

Prescott  experienced  distinct  irritation,  even  anger, 
and  rising  from  his  covert  he  walked  away,  feeling  for 
the  moment  rather  smaller  than  usual. 

"Then  some  sneak  thief  shall  have  it,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "for  I  will  not  take  it  again,"  and  at  that 
moment  he  wished  what  he  said. 

True  to  Redfield's  prediction,  the  search  for  the 
hidden  spy  began  the  next  morning,  and,  under  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Sefton,  was  carried  on  with  great 
zeal  and  energy,  attracting  in  its  course,  as  was 
natural,  much  attention  from  the  people  of  Richmond. 

Some  of  the  comments  upon  this  piece  of  enter- 
prise were  not  favourable,  and  conspicuous  among 
them  was  that  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  who  said  to  her  son : 

"If  this  spy  has  escaped  from  Richmond,  then  the 
search  is  useless ;  if  still  here,  then  no  harm  has  been 
done  and  there  is  nothing  to  undo." 

Prescott  grew  nervous,  and  presently  he  went  forth 
to  watch  the  hue  and  cry.  The  house  of  Miss  Charlotte 
Grayson  had  not  been  searched  yet,  but  it  was  soon  to 
be,  as  Miss  Grayson  was  well  known  for  her  Northern 
sympathies.  He  hovered  in  the  vicinity,  playing 
the  r61e  of  the  curious  onlooker,  in  which  he  was  not 
alone,  and  presently  he  saw  a  small  party  of  soldiers, 
ten  in  number,  headed  by  Talbot  himself,  arrive  in 
front  of  the  little  brown  cottage. 


io8  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

When  he  beheld  his  friend  conducting  this  particu- 
lar portion  of  the  search,  Prescott  was  tempted,  if  the 
opportunity  offered,  to  confide  the  truth  to  Talbot 
and  leave  the  rest  to  his  generosity ;  but  cool  reflection 
told  him  that  he  had  no  right  to  put  such  a  weight 
upon  a  friend,  and  while  he  sought  another  way, 
Talbot  himself  hailed  him. 

"Come  along  and  hold  up  my  hands  for  me,  Bob," 
he  said.  "This  is  a  nasty  duty  that  they've  put  me 
to — it's  that  man  Sefton — and  I  need  help  when  I 
pry  into  the  affairs  of  a  poor  old  maid's  house — 
Miss  Charlotte  Grayson." 

Prescott  accepted  the  invitation,  because  it  was 
given  in  such  a  friendly  way  and  because  he  was 
drawn  on  by  curiosity — a  desire  to  see  the  issue. 
It  might  be  that  Miss  Catherwood,  reasserting  her 
claim  of  innocence,  would  not  seek  to  conceal 
herself,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  evidence 
against  her  was  too  strong.  And  he  believed  that 
she  would  do  anything  to  avoid  compromising 
Miss  Grayson. 

The  house  was  closed,  windows  and  doors,  but  a 
thin  gray  stream  of  smoke  rose  from  the  chimney. 
Prescott  noticed,  with  wary  eye,  that  the  snow  which 
lay  deep  on  the  ground  was  all  white  and  untrodden 
in  front  of  the  house. 

One  of  the  soldiers,  obedient  to  Talbot 's  order,  used 
the  knocker  of  the  door,  and  after  repeating  the  action 
twice  and  thrice  and  receiving  no  response,  broke  the 
lock  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle. 

"I  have  to  do  it,"  said  Talbot  with  an  apologetic 
air  to  Prescott.  "  It's  orders." 

They  entered  the  little  drawing-room  and  found 
Miss  Grayson,  sitting  in  prim  and  dignified  silence, 
in  front  of  the  feeble  fire  that  burned  on  the  hearth. 
It  looked  to  Prescott  like  the  same  fire  that  was 
flickering  there  when  first  he  came,  but  he  believed 
now  it  was  his  coal. 

Miss  Grayson  remained  silent,  but  a  high  colour 
glowed  in  her  face  and  much  fire  was  in  her  eye.  She 
shot  one  swift  glance  at  Prescott  and  then  ignored 
him.  Talbot,  Prescott  and  all  the  soldiers  took  off 


THE    PALL  OF   WINTER  109 

their  caps  and  bowed,  a  courtesy  which  the  haughty 
old  maid  ignored  without  rising. 

"Miss  Grayson,"  said  Talbot  humbly,  "we  have 
come  to  search  your  house." 

"To  search  it  for  what  ?"  she  asked  icily. 

"A  Northern  spy." 

"A  fine  duty  for  a  Southern  gentleman,"  she  said. 

Talbot  flushed  red. 

"Miss  Grayson,"  he  said,  "this  is  more  painful  to 
me  than  it  is  to  you.  You  are  a  well-known  Northern 
sympathizer  and  I  am  compelled  to  do  it.  It  is  no 
choice  of  mine." 

Prescott  noticed  that  Talbot  refrained  from  asking 
her  if  she  had  any  spy  hidden  in  the  house,  not 
putting  her  word  to  the  proof,  and  mentally  he 
thanked  him.  "  You  are  a  real  Southern  gentleman," 
he  thought. 

Miss  Grayson  remained  resolutely  in  her  chair  and 
stared  steadily  into  the  fire,  ignoring  the  search,  after 
her  short  and  sharp  talk  with  Talbot,  who  took  his 
soldiers  into  the  other  rooms,  glad  to  get  out  of  her 
presence.  Prescott  lingered  behind,  anxious  to  catch 
the  eye  of  Miss  Grayson  and  to  have  a  word  with  her, 
but  she  ignored  him  as  pointedly  as  she  had  ignored 
Talbot,  though  he  walked  heavily  about,  making  his 
boots  clatter  on  the  floor.  Still  that  terrifying  old 
maid  stared  into  the  fire,  as  if  she  were  bent  upon 
watching  every  flickering  flame  and  counting  every 
coal. 

Her  silence  at  last  grew  so  ominous  and  weighed  so 
heavily  upon  Prescott 's  spirits  that  he  fled  from  the 
room  and  joined  Talbot,  who  growled  and  asked  him 
why  he  had  not  come  sooner,  saying:  "A  real  friend 
would  stay  with  me  and  share  all  that's  disagreeable." 

Prescott  wondered  what  the  two  women  would  say 
of  him  when  they  found  Miss  Catherwood,  but  he  was 
glad  afterward  to  remember  that  his  chief  feeling 
was  for  Miss  Catherwood  and  not  for  himself.  He 
expected  every  moment  that  they  would  find  her, 
and  it  was  hard  to  keep  his  heart  from  jumping.  He 
looked  at  every  chair  and  table  and  sofa,  dreading  lest 
he  should  see  the  famous  brown  cloak  lying  there. 


no  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

It  was  a  small  house  with  not  many  rooms,  and 
the  search  took  but  a  short  time.  They  passed  from 
one  to  another  seeing  nothing  suspicious,  and  came 
to  the  last.  "She  is  here,"  thought  Prescott, 
"fleeing  like  a  hunted  hare  to  the  final  covert." 
But  she  was  not  there — and  it  was  evident  that  she 
was  not  in  the  house  at  all.  It  was  impossible  for  one 
in  so  small  a  space  to  have  eluded  the  searchers. 
Talbot  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  Prescott  felt  as  if 
he  could  imitate  him. 

"A  nasty  job  well  done,"  said  Talbot. 

They  went  back  to  the  sitting-room,  where  the  lady 
of  the  house  was  still  confiding  her  angry  thoughts 
to  the  red  coals. 

"Our  search  is  ended,"  said  Talbot  politely  to 
Miss  Grayson,  "and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  we  have 
found  nothing." 

The  lady's  gaze  was  not  deflected  a  particle,  nor 
did  she  reply. 

"I  bid  you  good-day,  Miss  Grayson,"  continued 
Talbot,  "and  hope  that  you  will  not  be  annoyed 
again  in  this  manner." 

Still  no  reply  nor  any  change  in  the  confidences 
passing  between  the  lady  and  the  red  coals. 

Talbot  gathered  up  his  men  with  a  look  and 
hurried  outside  the  house,  followed  in  equal  haste  by 
Prescott. 

"How  warm  it  is  out  here!"  exclaimed  Talbot,  as 
he  stood  in  the  snow. 

"Warm?"  said  Prescott  in  surprise,  looking  around 
at  the  chill  world. 

"Yes,  in  comparison  with  the  temperature  in 
there,"  said  Talbot,  pointing  to  Miss  Grayson 's  house. 

Prescott  laughed,  and  he  felt  a  selfish  joy  that  the 
task  had  been  Talbot 's  and  not  his.  But  he  was 
filled,  too,  with  wonder.  What  had  become  of  Miss 
Catherwood  ? 

They  had  just  turned  into  the  main  street,  when 
they  met  Mr.  Sefton,  who  seemed  expectant. 
'Did  you  find  the  spy,  Mr.  Talbot?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  replied  Talbot,  with  ill-concealed  aversion ; 
"there  was  nothing  in  the  house." 


THE   PALL   OF   WINTER  m 

"  I  thought  it  likefy  that  some  one  would  be  found 
there,"  said  the  Secretary  thoughtfully.  "Miss 
Grayson  has  never  hidden  her  Northern  sympathies, 
and  a  woman  is  just  fanatic  enough  to  help  in  such  a 
business." 

Then  he  dismissed  Talbot  and  his  men — the 
Secretary  had  at  times  a  curt  and  commanding 
manner — and  took  Prescott's  arm  in  his  with  an 
appearance  of  great  friendship  and  confidence. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you  a  bit  about  this  affair, 
Captain  Prescott,"  he  said.  "You  are  going  back 
to  the  front  soon,  and  in  the  shock  of  the  great 
battles  that  are  surely  coming  such  a  little  thing  will 
disappear  from  your  mind;  but  it  has  its  importance, 
nevertheless.  Now  we  do  not  know  whom  to  trust. 
I  may  have  seemed  unduly  zealous.  Confess  that 
you  have  thought  so,  Captain  Prescott." 

Prescott  did  not  reply  and  the  Secretary  smiled. 

"I  knew  it,"  he  continued;  "you  have  thought  so, 
and  so  have  many  others  in  Richmond,  but  I  must  do 
my  duty,  nevertheless.  This  spy,  I  am  sure,  is  yet 
in  the  city;  but  while  she  cannot  get  out  herself,  she 
may  have  ways  of  forwarding  to  the  enemy  what  she 
steals  from  us.  There  is  where  the  real  danger  lies, 
and  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  spy  is  aided  by  some 
one  in  Richmond,  ostensibly  a  friend  of  the  Southern 
cause.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Captain  ?" 

The  young  Captain  was  much  startled,  but  he  kept 
his  countenance  and  answered  with  composure: 

"  I  really  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Mr.  Sefton. 
I  chanced  to  be  passing,  and  as  Mr.  Talbot,  who  is  one 
of  my  best  friends,  asked  me  to  go  in  with  him,  I 
did  so." 

44  And  it  does  credit  to  your  zeal,"  said  the  Secretary. 
44  It  is  in  fact  a  petty  business,  but  that  is  where  you 
soldiers  in  the  field  have  the  advantage  of  us  admin- 
istrators. You  fight  in  great  battles  and  you  win 
glory,  but  you  don't  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
little  things." 

4 'Our  lives  are  occupied  chiefly  with  little  things; 
the  great  battles  take  but  a  few  hours  in  our 
existence." 


ii2  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"But  you  have  a  free  and  open  life,"  said  the 
Secretary.  "It  is  true  that  your  chance  of  death  is 
great,  but  all  of  us  must  come  to  that,  sooner  or  later. 
As  I  said,  you  are  in  the  open;  you  do  not  have  any 
of  the  mean  work  to  do." 

The  Secretary  sighed  and  leaned  a  little  on  Prescott's 
arm.  The  young  Captain  regarded  him  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye,  but  he  could  read  nothing  in  his 
companion's  face.  Mr.  Sef ton's  air  was  that  of  a 
man  a-weary — one  disgusted  with  the  petty  ways 
and  intrigues  of  office. 

They  walked  on  together,  though  Prescott  would 
have  escaped  could  he  have  done  so,  and  many 
people,  noting  the  two  thus  arm  in  arm,  said  to  each 
other  that  young  Captain  Prescott  must  be  rising  in 
favour,  as  everybody  knew  Mr.  Sefton  to  be  a  power- 
ful man. 

Feeling  sure  that  this  danger  was  past  for  the 
present,  Robert  went  home  to  his  mother,  who 
received  him  in  the  sitting-room  with  a  slight  air  of 
agitation  unusual  in  one  of  such  a  placid  temper. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  the  matter?"  he  asked. 
"One  would  think  from  your  manner  that  you  have 
been  taking  part  in  this  search  for  the  spy." 

"And  that  I  am  suffering  from  disappointment 
because  the  spy  has  not  been  found?" 

"How  did  you  know  that,  mother?" 

"The  cook  told  me.  Do  you  suppose  that  such  an 
event  as  this  would  escape  the  notice  of  a  servant  ? 
Why,  I  am  prepared  to  gossip  about  it  myself." 

"  Well,  mother,  there  is  little  to  be  said.  You  told 
me  this  morning  that  you  hoped  the  spy  would  not 
be  found,  and  your  wish  has  come  true." 

"I  see  no  reason  to  change  my  wish,"  she  said. 
"The  Confederate  Government  has  heavier  work  to 
do  now  than  to  hunt  for  a  spy." 

But  Prescott  noticed  during  the  remainder  of  the 
afternoon  and  throughout  supper  that  his  mother's 
slight  attacks  of  agitation  were  recurrent.  There 
was  another  change  in  her.  She  was  rarely  a  demon- 
strative woman,  even  to  her  son,  and  though  her  only 
child,  she  had  never  spoiled  him;  but  now  she  was 


THE    PALL   OF   WINTER  113 

very  solicitous  for  him.  Had  he  suffered  from  the 
cold?  Was  he  to  be  assigned  to  some  particularly 
hard  duty?  She  insisted,  too,  upon  giving  him  the 
best  of  food,  and  Prescott,  wishing  to  please  her, 
quietly  acquiesced,  but  watched  her  covertly  though 
keenly. 

He  knew  his  mother  was  under  the  influence  of 
some  unusual  emotion,  and  he  judged  that  this 
house-to-house  search  for  a  spy  had  touched  a  soft 
heart. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  after  supper,  "I  think  I  shall 
go  out  for  awhile  this  evening." 

"  Do  go  by  all  means,"  she  said.  "The  young  like 
the  young,  and  I  wish  you  to  be  with  your  friends 
while  you  are  in  Richmond." 

Prescott  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  She  had  never 
objected  to  his  spending  the  evening  elsewhere,  but 
this  was  the  first  time  she  had  urged  him  to  go. 
Yes,  "urged"  was  the  word,  because  her  tone  indi- 
cated it.  However,  she  was  so  good  about  asking 
no  questions  that  he  asked  none  in  return,  and  went 
forth  without  comment. 

His  steps,  as  often  before,  led  him  to  Winthrop's 
office,  where  he  and  his  friends  had  grown  into  the 
habit  of  meeting  and  discussing  the  news.  To-night 
Wood  came  in,  too,  and  sat  silently  in  a  chair,  whit- 
tling a  pine  stick  with  a  bowie-knife  and  evidently  in 
deep  thought.  His  continued  stay  in  Richmond 
excited  comment,  because  he  was  a  man  of  such 
restless  activity.  He  had  never  before  been  known 
to  remain  so  long  in  one  place,  though  now  the  frozen 
world,  making  military  operations  impossible  or 
impracticable,  offered  fair  excuse. 

"That  man  Sefton  came  to  see  me  to-day,"  he  said 
after  a  long  silence.  "  He  wanted  to  know  just  how 
we  are  going  to  whip  the  enemy.  What  a  fool  ques- 
tion! I  don't  like  Sefton.  I  wish  he  was  on  the 
other  side !" 

A  slight  smile  appeared  on  the  faces  of  most  of 
those  present.  All  men  knew  the  reason  why  the 
mountain  General  did  not  like  the  Secretary,  but  no 
one  ventured  upon  a  teasing  remark.  The  great 


ii4  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

black-haired  cavalryman,  sitting  there,  trimming  off 
pine  shavings  with  a  razor-edged  bowie-knife,  seemed 
the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  a  jest.  i 

Prescott  left  at  midnight,  but  he  did  not  reach 
home  until  an  hour  later,  having  done  an  errand  in 
the  meanwhile.  In  the  course  of  the  day  he  had 
marked  a  circumstance  of  great  interest  and  impor- 
tance. Frame  houses  when  old  and  as  lightly  built 
as  that  in  the  little  side  street  are  likely  to  sag  some- 
where. Now,  at  a  certain  spot  the  front  door  of  this 
house  failed  to  meet  the  floor  by  at  least  an  eighth  of 
an  inch,  and  Prescott  proposed  to  take  advantage  of 
the  difference. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  he  had  counted  his  remain- 
ing gold  with  great  satisfaction.  He  had  placed  one 
broad,  shining  twenty-dollar  piece  in  a  small  envelope, 
and  now  as  he  walked  through  the  snow  he  fingered 
it  in  his  pocket,  feeling  all  the  old  satisfaction. 

He  was  sure — it  was  an  intuition  as  well  as  the 
logical  result  of  reasoning — that  Lucia  Catherwood 
was  still  in  the  city  and  would  return  to  Miss  Grayson's 
cottage.  Now  he  bent  his  own  steps  that  way,  look- 
ing up  at  the  peaceful  moon  and  down  at  the  peaceful 
capital.  Nothing  was  alight  except  the  gambling 
houses ;  the  dry  snow  crunched  under  his  feet,  but  there 
was  no  other  sound  save  the  tread  of  an  occasional 
sentinel,  and  the  sharp  crack  of  the  timbers  in  a  house 
contracting  under  the  great  cold. 

A  wind  arose  and  moaned  in  the  desolate  streets  of 
the  dark  city.  Prescott  bent  to  the  blast,  and  shiver- 
ing, drew  the  collar  of  his  military  cloak  high  about 
his  ears.  Then  he  laughed  at  himself  for  a  fool 
because  he  was  going  to  the  help  of  two  women  who 
probably  hated  and  scorned  him;  but  he  went  on. 

The  little  house  was  dark  and  silent.  The  sky 
above,  though  shadowed  by  night,  was  blue  and  clear, 
showing  everything  that  rose  against  it ;  but  there  was 
no  smoke  from  the  cottage  to  leave  a  trail  there. 

"That's  wisdom,"  thought  Prescott.  "Coal's  too 
precious  a  thing  now  in  Richmond  to  be  wasted.  It 
would  be  cheaper  to  burn  Confederate  money. " 


THE   PALL   OF   WINTER  115 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  shivering  by  the  gate, 
having  little  thought  of  detection,  as  use  had  now 
bred  confidence  in  him,  and  then  went  inside.  It  was 
the  work  of  but  half  a  minute  to  slip  a  double  eagle 
in  its  paper  wrapping  in  the  crack  under  the  door, 
and  then  he  walked  away  feeling  again  that  pleasing 
glow  which  always  came  over  him  after  a  good  deed. 

He  was  two  squares  away  when  he  encountered  a 
figure  walking  softly,  and  the  moonlight  revealed 
the  features  of  Mr.  Sefton,  the  last  man  in  the  world 
whom  he  wished  to  see  just  then.  He  was  startled, 
even  more  startled  than  he  would  admit  to  himself, 
at  encountering  this  man  who  hung  upon  him  and  in 
a  measure  seemed  to  cut  off  his  breath. 

But  he  was  convinced  once  more  that  it  was  only 
chance,  as  the  Secretary's  face  bore  no  look  of  malice, 
no  thought  of  suspicion,  being,  on  the  contrary,  mild 
and  smiling.  As  before,  he  took  Prescott's  unresist- 
ing arm  and  pointed  up  at  the  bright  stars  in  their 
sea  of  blue. 

"They  are  laughing  at  our  passions,  Mr.  Prescott, 
perhaps  smiling  is  the  word, "  he  said.  "  Such  a  peace 
as  that  appeals  to  me.  I  am  not  fond  of  war  and  I 
know  that  you  are  not.  5 1  feel  it  particularly  to-night. 
There  is  poetry  in  the  heavens  so  calm  and  so  cold. " 

Prescott  said  nothing;  the  old  sense  of  oppression, 
of  one  caught  in  a  trap,  was  in  full  force,  and  he  merely 
waited. 

"I  wish  to  speak  frankly  to-night,"  continued  the 
Secretary.  "There  was  at  first  a  feeling  of  coldness, 
even  hostility,  between  us,  but  in  my  case,  and  I  think 
in  yours  too,  it  has  passed.  It  is  because  we  now 
recognize  facts  and  understand  that  we  are  in  a  sense 
rivals — friendly  rivals  in  a  matter  of  which  we  know 
well." 

The  hand  upon  Prescott's  arm  did  not  tremble  a 
particle  as  the  Secretary  thus  spoke  so  clearly.  But 
Prescott  did  not  answer,  and  they  went  on  in  silence 
to  the  end  of  the  square,  where  a  man,  a  stranger  to 
Prescott,  was  waiting. 

Mr.  Sefton  beckoned  to  the  stranger  and,  politely 
asking  Prescott  to  excuse  him  a  moment,  talked  with 


n6  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

him  a  little  while  in  low  tones.  Then  he  dismissed 
him  and  rejoined  Prescott. 

' '  A  secret  service  agent , "  he  said .  "  Unfortunately , 
I  have  to  do  with  these  people,  though  I  am  sure  it 
could  not  be  more  repugnant  to  any  one  than  it  is  to 
me;  but  we  are  forced  to  it.  We  must  keep  a  watch 
even  here  in  Richmond  among  our  own  people." 

Prescott  felt  cold  to  the  spine  when  the  Secretary, 
with  a  courteous  good-night,  released  him  a  few 
moments  later.  Then  he  hurried  home  and  slept 
uneasily. 

He  was  in  dread  at  the  breakfast  table  the  next 
morning  lest  his  mother  should  hand  him  a  tiny 
package,  left  at  the  door,  as  she  had  done  once  before, 
but  it  did  not  happen,  nor  did  it  come  the  next  day  or 
the  next. 

The  gold  double  eagle  had  been  kept 


CHAPTER  IX 

ROBERT     AND      LUCIA 

Two  days  passed,  and  neither  any  word  nor  his 
gold  having  come  from  the  Grayson  cottage,  Prescott 
began  to  feel  bold  again  and  decided  that  he  would 
call  there  openly  and  talk  once  more  with  Miss 
Grayson.  He  waited  until  the  night  was  dusky, 
skies  and  stars  alike  obscured  by  clouds,  and  then 
knocked  boldly  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by 
Miss  Grayson'  herself.  "Captain  Prescott!"  she 
exclaimed,  and  he  heard  a  slight  rustling  in  the  room. 
When  he  entered  Miss  Catherwood  was  there.  Cer- 
tainly they  had  a  strange  confidence  in  him. 

She  did  not  speak,  nor  did  he,  and  there  was  an 
awkward  silence  while  Miss  Grayson  stood  looking  on. 
Prescott  waited  for  the  thanks,  the  hint  of  gratitude 
that  he  wished  to  hear,  but  it  was  not  given ;  and  while 
he  waited  he  looked  at  Miss  Catherwood  with  increas- 
ing interest,  beholding  her  now  in  a  new  phase. 

Hitherto  she  had  always  seemed  to  him  bold  and 
strong,  a  woman  of  more  than  feminine  courage,  one 
with  whom  it  would  require  all  the  strength  and 
resource  of  a  man  to  deal  even  on  the  man's  own 
ground.  Now  she  was  of  the  essence  feminine.  She 
sat  in  a  low  chair,  her  figure  yielding  a  little  and  her 
face  paler  than  he  had  ever  seen  it  before.  The  lines 
were  softened  and  her  whole  effect  was  that  of  an 
appeal.  She  made  him  think  for  a  moment  of  Helen 
Harley. 

"I  am  glad  that  our  soldiers  did  not  find  you  here 
when  they  searched  this  house, "  he  said  awkwardly. 

"You  were  here  with  them,  Captain  Prescott — I 
have  heard,"  she  replied. 

The  colour  rose  to  his  face. 
117 


n8  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"It  was  pure  chance,"  he  said.  "I  did  not  come 
here  to  help  them. " 

"  I  do  not  think  that  Captain  Prescott  was  assist- 
ing in  the  search,' '  interposed  Miss  Grayson.  Prescott 
again  looked  for  some  word  or  sign  of  gratitude,  but 
did  not  find  it. 

"I  have  wondered,  Miss  Catherwood,  how  you  hid 
yourself,"  he  said. 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  nickered  over  her  pale  face. 

"Your  wonder  will  have  to  continue,  if  it  is  inter- 
esting enough,  Captain  Prescott,"  she  replied. 

He  was  silent,  and  then  a  sudden  flame  appeared 
in  her  cheeks. 

"Why  do  you  come  here ? "  she  exclaimed.  " Why 
do  you  interest  yourself  in  two  poor  lone  women  ? 
Why  do  you  try  to  help  them  ? " 

To  see  her  show  emotion  made  him  grow  cooler. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  come,"  he  replied  candidly. 

"Then  do  not  do  so  any  more,"  she  said.  "You 
are  risking  too  much,  and  you,  a  Southern  soldier, 
have  no  right  to  do  it.  " 

She  spoke  coldly  now  and  her  face  resumed  its 
pallor. 

"I  am  with  the  North,"  she  continued,  "but  I  do 
not  wish  any  one  of  the  South  to  imperil  himself 
through  me." 

Prescott  felt  hotly  indignant  that  she  should  talk 
thus  to  him  after  all  that  he  had  done. 

"My  course  is  my  own  to  choose,"  he  replied 
proudly,  "and  as  I  told  you  once  before,  I  do  not 
make  war  on  women.  " 

Then  he  asked  them  what  they  proposed  to  do — 
what  they  expected  Miss  Catherwood's  future  to  be. 

"If  she  can't  escape  from  Richmond,  she'll  stay 
here  until  General  Grant  comes  to  rescue  her, " 
exclaimed  the  fierce  little  old  maid. 

"The  Northern  army  is  not  far  from  Richmond, 
but  I  fancy  that  it  has  a  long  journey  before  it, 
nevertheless,"  said  Prescott  darkly. 

Then  he  was  provoked  with  himself  because  he  had 
made  such  a  retort  to  a  woman. 

"  It  is  not  well  to  grow  angry  about  the  war  now, " 


ROBERT   AND   LUCIA  119 

said  Miss  Catherwood.  "Many  of  us  realize  this;  I 
do,  I  know. " 

He  waited  eagerly,  hoping  that  she  would  tell  of 
herself,  who  she  was  and  why  she  was  there,  but  she 
went  no  further. 

He  looked  about  the  room  and  saw  that  it  was 
changed;  its  furniture,  always  scanty,  was  now 
scantier  than  ever ;  it  occurred  to  him  with  ~  sudden 
thrill  that  these  missing  pieces  had  gone  to  a  pawn- 
shop in  Richmond;  then  his  double  eagle  had  not 
come  too  soon,  and  that  was  why  it  never  returned  to 
him.  All  his  pity  for  these  two  women  rose  again. 

He  hesitated,  not  yet  willing  to  go  and  not  knowing 
what  to  say;  but  while  he  doubted  there  came  a 
heavy  knock  at  the  door.  Miss  Grayson,  who  was 
still  standing,  started  up  and  uttered  a  smothered 
cry,  but  Miss  Catherwood  said  nothing,  only  her 
pallor  deepened. 

"What  can  it  mean?"  exclaimed  Miss  Grayson. 

No  one  answered  and  she  added  hastily: 

"  You  two  must  go  into  the  next  room  ! " 

She  made  a  gesture  so  commanding  that  they 
obeyed  her  without  a  word.  Prescott  did  not  realize 
what  he  was  doing  until  he  heard  the  door  close 
behind  him  and  saw  that  he  was  alone  with  Miss 
Catherwood  in  a  little  room  in  which  the  two  women 
evidently  slept.  Then  as  the  red  blood  dyed  his 
brow  he  turned  and  would  have  gone  back. 

"Miss  Catherwood,  I  do  not  hide  from  any  one," 
he  said,  all  his  ingrained  pride  swelling  up. 

"It  is  best,  Captain  Prescott,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Not  for  your  sake,  but  for  that  of  two  women  whom 
you  would  not  bring  to  harm. " 

A  note  of  pathetic  appeal  appeared  in  her  voice, 
and,  hesitating,  he  was  lost.  He  remained  and 
watched  her  as  she  stood  there  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  her  hand  resting  lightly  upon  the  back  of  a 
chair  and  all  her  senses  alert.  The  courage,  the 
strength,  the  masculine  power  returned  suddenly  to 
her,  and  he  had  the  feeling  that  he  was  in  the  presence 
of  a  woman  who  was  the  match  for  any  man,  even  in 
his  own  special  fields. 


120  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

She  was  listening  intently,  and  her  figure,  instinct 
with  life  and  strength,  seemed  poised  as  if  she  were 
about  to  spring.  The  pallor  in  her  cheeks  was 
replaced  by  a  glow  and  her  eyes  were  alight.  Here 
was  a  woman  of  fire  and  passion,  a  woman  to  whom 
danger  mattered  little,  but  to  whom  waiting  was 
hard. 

The  sound  of  voices,  one  short  and  harsh  and  the 
other  calm  and  even,  came  to  them  through  the  thin 
wall.  The  composed  tones  he  knew  were  those  of 
Miss  Grayson,  and  the  other,  by  the  accent,  the  note 
of  command,  belonged  to  an  officer.  They  talked 
on,  but  the  words  were  not  audible  to  either  in  the 
inner  room. 

His  injured  pride  returned.  It  was  not  necessary 
for  him  to  hide  from  any  one,  and  he  would  go  back 
and  face  the  intruder,  whoever  he  might  be.  He 
moved  and  his  foot  made  a  slight  sound  on  the  floor. 
Miss  Catherwood  turned  upon  him  quickly,  even  with 
anger,  and  held  up  a  warning  finger.  The  gesture 
was  of  fierce  command,  and  it  said  as  plain  as  day, 
"  Be  still ! "  Instinctively  he  obeyed. 

He  had  no  fear  for  himself ;  he  never  thought  then 
of  any  trouble  into  which  discovery  there  might  lead 
him,  but  the  unspoken  though  eager  question  on  his 
lips  was  to  her  :  ' '  What  will  you  do  if  we  are  found  ? ' ' 

The  voices  went  on,  one  harsh,  commanding,  the 
other  calm,  even  argumentative;  but  the  attitude  of 
the  woman  beside  Prescott  never  changed.  She 
stood  like  a  lithe  panther,  tense,  waiting. 

The  harsh  voice  sank  presently  as  if  convinced,  and 
they  heard  the  sound  of  retreating  footsteps,  and 
then  the  bang  of  the  front  door  as  if  slammed  in 
disappointment . 

"Now  we  can  go  back,"  said  Miss  Catherwood, 
and  opening  the  door  she  led  the  way  into  the  recep- 
tion room,  where  Miss  Grayson  half  lay  in  a  chair, 
deadly  pale  and  collapsed. 

"What  was  it,  Charlotte?"  asked  Miss  Catherwood 
in  a  protecting  voice,  laying  her  hand  with  a  soothing 
gesture  upon  Miss  Grayson's  head. 

Miss  Grayson  looked  up  and  smiled  weakly. 


ROBERT  AND   LUCIA  121 

"  It  lasted  just  a  little  too  long  for  my  nerves, "  she 
said.  "  It  was,  I  suppose,  what  you  might  call  a 
domiciliary  visit.  The  man  was  an  officer  with 
soldiers,  though  he  had  the  courtesy  to  leave  the  men 
at  the  door.  He  saw  a  light  shining  through  a  front 
window  and  thought  he  ought  to  search.  I'm  a 
suspect,  a  dangerous  woman,  you  know — marked 
to  be  watched,  and  he  hoped  to  make  a  capture.  But 
I  demanded  his  right,  his  orders— even  in  war  there 
is  a  sort  of  law.  I  had  been  searched  once,  I  said, 
and  nothing  was  found;  then  it  was  by  the  proper 
authorities,  but  now  he  was  about  to  exceed  his 
orders.  I  insisted  so  much  on  my  rights,  at  the  same 
time  declaring  my  innocence,  that  he  became  fright- 
ened and  went  away;  but,  oh,  Lucia,  I  am  more 
frightened  now  than  he  ever  was ! " 

Miss  Catherwood  soothed  her  and  talked  to  her 
protectingly  and  gently,  as  a  mother  to  her  frightened 
child,  while  Prescott  admired  the  voice  and  the  touch 
that  could  be  at  once  so  tender  and  so  strong. 

But  the  courageous  half  in  Miss  Grayson's  dual 
nature  soon  recovered  its  rule  over  the  timid  half  and 
she  sat  erect  again,  making  apologies  for  her  collapse. 

"You  see,  now,  Captain  Prescott,"  said  Miss 
Catherwood,  still  leaving  a  protecting  hand  upon 
Miss  Grayson's  shoulders,  "that  I  was  right  when  I 
wanted  you  to  leave  us.  We  cannot  permit  you  to 
compromise  yourself  in  our  behalf  and  we  do  not  wish 
it.  You  ran  a  great  risk  to-night.  You  might  not 
fare  so  well  the  next  time." 

Her  tone  was  cold,  and,  chilled  by  it,  Prescott 
replied : 

"  Miss  Catherwood,  I  may  have  come  where  I  was 
not  wanted,  but  I  shall  not  do  so  again. " 

He  walked  toward  the  door,  his  head  high.  Miss 
Grayson  looked  at  Miss  Catherwood  in  surprise. 

The  girl  raised  her  hand  as  if  about  to  make 
a  detaining  gesture,  but  she  let  it  drop  again,  and 
without  another  word  Prescott  passed  out  of  the  house. 

One  of  the  formal  receptions,  occurring  twice  a 
month,  was  held  the  next  evening  by  the  President 


122  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

of  the  Confederacy  and  his  wife.  Prescott  and  all 
whom  he  knew  were  there. 

The  parlours  were  crowded  already  with  people — 
officers,  civilians,  curious  transatlantic  visitors — and 
more  than  one  workman  in  his  rough  coat,  for  all  the 
world  was  asked  to  come  to  the  President's  official 
receptions.  They  had  obeyed  the  order,  too,  and 
came  with  their  bravest  faces  and  bravest  apparel. 
In  the  White  House  of  the  Confederacy  there  were 
few  somber  touches  that  night. 

The  President  and  his  wife,  he  elderly  and  severe  of 
countenance,  she  young  and  mild,  received  in  one  of 
the  parlours  all  who  would  shake  the  hand  of  Mr. 
Davis.  It  was  singularly  like  a  reception  at  that 
other  White  House  on  the  Potomac,  and  the  South, 
in  declaring  that  she  would  act  by  herself,  still  followed 
the  old  patterns. 

It  was  a  varied  gathering,  varied  in  appearance, 
manners  and  temper.  The  official  and  civil  society 
of  the  capital  never  coalesced  well.  The  old  families 
of  Richmond,  interwoven  with  nearly  three  centuries 
of  life  in  Virginia,  did  not  like  all  these  new  people 
coming  merely  with  the  stamp  of  the  Government 
upon  them,  which  was  often,  so  they  thought,  no 
stamp  at  all;  but  with  the  ceaseless  and  increasing 
pressure  from  the  North  they  met  now  on  common 
ground  at  the  President's  official  reception,  mingling 
without  constraint. 

Prescott  danced  three  times  with  Helen  Harley 
and  walked  twice  with  her  in  the  halls.  She  was  at 
her  best  that  night,  beautiful  in  a  gentle,  delicate  way, 
but  she  did  not  whip  his  blood  like  a  wind  from  the 
hills,  and  he  was  surprised  to  find  how  little  bitterness 
he  felt  when  he  saw  her  dancing  with  Mr.  Sefton  or 
walking  with  the  great  cavalry  General  like  a  rose  in 
the  shadow  of  an  oak.  But  he  loved  her,  he  told 
himself  again;  she  was  the  one  perfect  woman  in  the 
world,  the  one  whom  he  must  make  his  wife,  if  he 
could.  These  men  were  not  to  be  blamed  for  loving 
her,  too;  they  could  not  help  it. 

Then  his  eye  roved  to  Colonel  Harley,  who,  unlike 
General  Wood,  was  as  much  at  home  here  as  in  the 


ROBERT  AND   LUCIA  123 

field,  his  form  expanding,  his  face  in  a  glow,  paying 
assiduous  attention  to  Mrs.  Markham,  who  used  him 
as  she  would.  He  watched  them  a  little,  and,  though 
he  liked  Mrs.  Markham,  he  reflected  that  he  would 
not  be  quite  so  complacent  if  he  were  in  General 
Markham's  place. 

Presently  Talbot  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  saying : 

"Come  outside." 

"Why  should  I  go  out  into  the  cold?"  replied 
Prescott.  "I'm  not  going  to  fight  a  duel  with  you." 

"No,  but  you're  going  to  smoke  a  cigar  with  me, 
a  genuine  Havana  at  that,  a  chance  that  you  may  not 
have  again  until  this  war  ends.  A  friend  just  gave 
them  to  me.  They  came  on  a  blockade  runner  last 
week  by  way  of  Charleston." 

They  walked  back  and  forth  to  keep  themselves 
warm.  A  number  of  people,  drawn  by  the  lights  and 
the  music,  were  lingering  in  the  street  before  the 
house,  despite  the  cold.  They  were  orderly  and 
quiet,  not  complaining  because  others  were  in  the 
warmth  and  light  while  they  were  in  the  cold  and 
dark.  Richmond  under  the  pressure  of  war  was  full 
of  want  and  suffering,  but  she  bred  no  mobs. 

"Let's  go  back,"  said  Talbot  presently  "My  cigar 
is  about  finished  and  I'm  due  for  this  dance  with 
Mrs.  Markham." 

"Mine's  not,"  replied  Prescott,  "and  I'm  not  due 
for  the  dance  with  anybody,  so  I  think  I'll  stay  a 
little  longer." 

"All  right;  I  must  go." 

Talbot  went  in,  leaving  his  friend  alone  beside  the 
house.  Prescott  continued  to  smoke  the  unfinished 
cigar,  but  that  was  not  his  reason  for  staying.  He 
remained  motionless  at  least  five  minutes,  then  he 
threw  the  cigar  butt  on  the  ground  and  moved 
farther  along  the  side  of  the  house,  where  he  was 
wholly  in  shadow.  His  pretense  of  calm,  of  a  lack  of 
interest,  was  gone.  His  muscles  were  alert  and  his 
eye  keen  to  see.  '  He  had  on  his  military  cap  and  he 
drew  his  cloak  very  closely  about  him  until  it  shrouded 
his  whole  face  and  figure.  He  might  pass  unnoticed 
in  a  crowd. 


i24  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Making  a  little  circuit,  he  entered  the  street  lower 
down,  and  then  came  back  toward  the  house,  saun- 
tering as  if  he  were  a  casual  looker-on.  No  one 
noticed  him,  and  he  slid  into  a  place  in  the  little  crowd, 
where  he  stood  for  a  few  moments,  then  made  his 
way  toward  a  tall  figure  near  the  fence. 

When  he  was  beside  the  house  with  Talbot  he  had 
seen  that  face  under  a  black  hood,  looking  over  the 
fence,  and  the  single  glance  was  sufficient.  Now  he 
stood  beside  her  and  put  his  hand  upon  her  arm  as 
if  he  had  come  there  with  her,  that  no  one  might 
take  notice. 

She  started,  looked  up  into  his  face,  checked  a  cry 
and  was  silent,  though  he  could  feel  the  arm  quivering 
under  the  touch  of  his  fingers. 

"Why  are  you  here  ?"  he  asked  in  a  strained  whisper. 
"Do  you  not  know  better  than  to  leave  Miss  Grayson's 
house,  and,  above  all,  to  come  to  this  place?  Are 
you  a  mad  woman  ?" 

Anger  was  mixed  with  his  alarm.  She  seemed  at 
that  moment  a  child  who  had  disobeyed  him.  She 
shrank  a  little  at  his  words,  but  turned  toward  him 
luminous  eyes,  in  which  the  appeal  soon  gave  way 
to  an  indignant  fire. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  stay  in  hiding — to  be 
confined  within  the  four  walls  of  one  room?"  she 
said,  and  her  voice  was  more  intense  even  than  his 
had  been.  "Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  sit  in  the 
dark  and  the  cold  when  you  love  the  warmth  and 
the  light  and  the  music?  I  saw  you  and  the  other 
man  and  the  satisfaction  on  your  faces.  Do  you 
think  that  you  alone  were  made  for  enjoyment  ?" 

Prescott  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  such  was  the 
fire  and  intensity  of  her  tone  and  so  unexpected  was 
her  reply.  He  had  associated  her  with  other  fields  of 
action,  more  strenuous  phases  of  life  than  this  of  the 
ballroom,  the  dance  and  the  liquid  flow  of  music. 
All  at  once  he  remembered  that  she  was  a  woman 
like  another  woman  there  in  the  ballroom  in  silken 
skirts  and  with  a  rose  in  her  hair.  Unconsciously 
he  placed  her  by  the  side  of  Helen  Harley. 

"But  the  danger !"  he  said  at  last.  "You  are  hunted, 


ROBERT  AND   LUCIA  125 

woman  though  you  are,  and  Richmond  is  small. 
At  such  a  time  as  this  every  strange  form  is  noted." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  replied,  and  a  peculiar  kind 
of  pride  rang  in  her  tone.  "If  I  am  sought  as  a  criminal 
it  does  not  follow  that  I  am  such." 

"And  you  have  left  Miss  Grayson  alone  ?" 

"Miss  Grayson  has  often  been  alone.  She  may  dis- 
like loneliness,  but  she  does  not  fear  it.  Listen, 
they  are  dancing  again  !" 

The  liquid  melody  of  the  music  rose  in  a  rippling 
flow,  coming  through  the  closed  windows  in  soft 
minor  chords.  Standing  there  beside  her,  in  the  outer 
darkness  and  cold,  Prescott  began  to  understand  the 
girl's  feeling,  the  feeling  of  the  hunted,  who  looks 
upon  ease  and  joy.  The  house  was  gleaming  with 
lights,  even  the  measured  tread  of  the  dancers  mingled 
with  the  flow  of  music;  but  here,  outside,  the  wind 
began  to  whistle  icily  down  the  street,  and  the  girl 
bent  her  head  to  its  edge. 

"You  must  go  back  at  once  to  Miss  Grayson 's," 
urged  Prescott,  "and  you  must  not  come  out  again 
like  this." 

"You  command  merely  for  me  to  disobey,"  she 
said  coolly.  "By  what  right  do  you  seek  to  direct 
my  actions?" 

"By  the  right  of  wisdom,  or  necessity,  whichever 
you  choose  to  call  it,"  he  replied.  "Since  you  will 
not,  of  your  own  choice,  care  for  yourself,  I  shall  try  to 
make  you  do  so.  Come  !" 

He  put  his  hand  upon  her  again.  She  sought  to 
draw  away,  but  he  would  not  let  go,  and  gradually 
she  yielded. 

'.'What  a  great  thing  is  brute  force !  at  least,  you 
men  think  so,"  she  said,  as  they  walked  slowly  up  the 
street. 

"Yes,  when  properly  exerted,  as  in  the  present 
instance." 

They  went  on,  the  lights  in  the  house  became 
dimmer,  and  the  sound  of  the  music  and  the  tread 
of  the  dance  reached  them  no  more. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  presently. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  she  said. 


126  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"Certainly." 

"Who  is  Helen?" 

"Who  is  Helen?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  that  man  say  how  well  she  was 
looking  to-night,  and  you  agreed." 

"We  were  both  right.  Helen  is  Miss  Helen  Harley, 
and  they  say  she  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
Richmond.  She  is  the  sister  of  Colonel  Harley,  one 
of  our  noted  cavalry  leaders." 

She  was  silent  for  a  little  while,  and  then  Prescott 
said : 

"Now  will  you  answer  a  question  of  mine  ?" 

"I  should  like  to  hear  the  question  first." 

"Where  were  you  hidden  when  we  searched  Miss 
Grayson's  house?" 

"That  I  will  never  tell  you,"  she  replied  with 
sudden  energy. 

"Oh,  well,  don't  do  it  then,"  he  said  in  some  disap- 
pointment. 

They  were  now  three  or  four  squares  away  from 
the  presidential  mansion  and  were  clothed  in  dark- 
ness, and  silence  save  when  the  frozen  snow  crackled 
crisply  under  their  feet. 

"You  cannot  go  any  farther  with  me,"  she  said. 
"I  have  warned  you  before  that  you  must  not  risk 
yourself  in  my  behalf." 

"But  if  I  choose  to  do  so,  nevertheless." 

"Then  I  shall  go  back  there  to  the  house,  where 
they  are  dancing." 

She  spoke  in  such  a  resolute  tone  that  Prescott 
could  not  doubt  her  intent. 

"If  you  promise  to  return  at  once  to  Miss  Grayson's 
cottage  I  shall  leave  you  here,"  he  said. 

"I  make  the  promise,  but  for  the  present  only," 
she  replied.  "You  must  remember  that  we  are 
enemies;  you  are  of  the  South,  and  I  am  treated 
as  an  enemy  in  Richmond.  Good-night !" 

She  left  him  so  quickly  that  he  did  not  realize  her 
departure  until  he  saw  her  form  flicker  in  the  dark- 
ness and  then  disappear  completely.  A  faint  smile 
appeared  on  his  face. 

"No  woman  can  ever  successfully  play  the  r61e  of 


ROBERT   AND   LUCIA  127 

a  man,"  he  said  to  himself.  Despite  her  former 
denial  and  her  air  of  truth  he  was  still  thinking  of 
her  as  a  spy. 

Then  he  walked  thoughtfully  back  to  the  presiden- 
tial mansion. 

"You  must  have  found  that  a  most  interesting 
cigar,"  said  Talbot  to  him  when  he  returned  to  the 
house. 

"The  most  interesting  one  I  ever  smoked,"  replied 
Prescott. 

Prescott  found  himself  again  with  Mrs.  Markham 
and  walked  with  her  into  one  of  the  smaller  parlours, 
where  Mr.  Sefton,  Winthrop,  Raymond,  Redfield  and 
others  were  discussing  a  topic  with  an  appearance 
of  great  earnestness. 

"It  is  certainly  a  mystery,  one  of  the  most  remarka- 
ble that  I  have  ever  encountered,"  said  the  Secretary 
with  emphasis,  as  Prescott  and  Mrs.  Markham 
joined  them.  "We  are  sure  that  it  was  a  woman,  a 
woman  in  a  brown  cloak  and  brown  dress,  and  that 
she  is  yet  in  Richmond,  but  we  are  sure  of  nothing 
else.  So  far  as  our  efforts  are  concerned,  she  might 
as  well  be  in  St.  Petersburg  as  here  in  the  capital  city 
of  the  South.  Perhaps  the  military  can  give  us  a 
suggestion.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Captain 
Prescott?" 

He  turned  his  keen,  cold  eye  on  Prescott,  who 
never  quivered. 

"I,  Mr.  Sefton?"  he  replied.  "I  have  no  thoughts 
at  all  upon  such  a  subject;  for  two  reasons:  first, 
my  training  as  a  soldier  tells  me  to  let  alone  affairs 
which  are  not  my  own;  and  second,  you  say  this 
spy  is  a  woman ;  know  then  that  it  is  the  prayer  of 
every  soldier  that  God  will  preserve  him  from  any 
military  duty  which  has  to  do  with  a  woman,  as  it 
means  sure  defeat." 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  Mrs.  Markham  asked : 

"Do  you  mean  the  second  of  your  reasons  as  truth 
or  as  a  mere  compliment  to  my  sex  ?" 

"Madam,"  replied  Prescott  with  a  bow,  "you  are 
a  living  illustration  of  the  fact  that  I  could  mean  the 
truth  only." 


128  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"But  to  return  to  the  question  of  the  spy,"  said 
Mr.  Sefton,  tenaciously,  "have  you  really  no  opinion, 
Captain  Prescott  ?  I  have  heard  that  you  assisted 
Mr.  Talbot  when  he  was  detailed  to  search  Miss 
Grayson's  house — a  most  commendable  piece  of  zeal 
on  your  part — and  I  thought  it  showed  your  great 
interest  in  the  matter." 

"Captain  Prescott,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  "I  am 
surprised  at  you.  You  really  helped  in  the  searching 
of  Miss  Grayson's  house!  The  idea  of  a  soldier 
doing  such  work  when  he  doesn't  have  to  !" 

Prescott  laughed  lightly — a  cloak  for  his  real  feel- 
ings— as  Mrs.  Markham's  frank  criticism  stung  him  a 
little. 

"It  was  pure  chance,  Mrs.  Markham.  I  happened 
to  be  near  there  when  Talbot  passed  with  his  detail, 
and  as  he  and  I  are  the  best  of  friends,  I  went  with 
him  wholly  out  of  curiosity,  I  assure  you — not  the 
best  of  motives,  I  am  willing  to  admit.  " 

"Then  I  am  to  imply,  Mrs.  Markham,"  said  the 
Secretary  in  his  smooth  voice,  "that  you  condemn 
me  for  instituting  such  a  search.  But  the  ladies,  if 
you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  are  the  most  zealous 
upholders  of  the  war,  and  now  I  ask  you  how  are  we 
men  to  carry  it  on  if  we  do  not  take  warlike  measures." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  the  Secretary 
turned  his  attention  again  to  Prescott. 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  chances  of  capture, 
Captain ? "  he  said.  "Shall  we  take  this  woman ? " 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Prescott,  meeting  the 
Secretary's  eye  squarely.  "First,  you  have  no  clue 
beyond  the  appearance  of  a  woman  wearing  a  certain 
style  of  costume  in  the  Government  building  on  a 
certain  day.  You  have  made  no  progress  whatever 
beyond  that.  Now,  whoever  this  woman  may  be, 
she  must  be  very  clever,  and  I  should  think,  too,  that 
she  has  friends  in  the  city  who  are  helping  her. " 

"Then,"  said  the  Secretary,  "we  must  discover 
her  friends  and  reach  her  through  them.  " 

"How  do  you  propose  going  about  it?"  asked 
Prescott  calmly. 

"I  have  not  made  any  arrangements  yet,  nor  can  I 


ROBERT  AND   LUCIA  129 

say  that  I  have  a  settled  plan  in  view,"  replied  the 
Secretary;  "but  I  feel  sure  of  myself.  A  city  of 
forty  thousand  inhabitants  is  not  hard  to  watch,  and 
whoever  this  spy's  friends  are  I  shall  find  them  sooner 
or  later. " 

His  cold,  keen  eyes  rested  upon  Prescott,  but 
they  were  without  expression.  Nevertheless,  a  chill 
struck  the  young  Captain  to  the  marrow.  Did  the 
Secretary  know,  or  were  his  words  mere  chance? 
He  recognized  with  startling  force  that  he  was 
face  to  face  with  a  man  of  craft  and  guile,  one 
who  regarded  him  as  a  rival  in  a  matter  that  lay 
very  close  to  the  heart's  desire,  and  therefore  as  a 
probable  enemy. 

But  cold  and  keen  as  was  the  look  of  the  Secretary, 
Prescott  could  read  nothing  in  his  face,  and  whether  a 
challenge  was  intended  or  not  he  resolved  to  pick  up 
the  glove.  There  was  something  stubborn  lying  at 
the  bottom  of  his  nature,  and  confronted  thus  by 
formidable  obstacles  he  resolved  to  protect  Lucia 
Catherwood  if  it  lay  within  his  power. 

General  Wood,  a  look  of  discontent  on  his  face, 
entered  the  room  at  this  moment.  An  electrical  cur- 
rent of  antagonism  seemed  to  pass  between  him  and 
the  Secretary,  which  Mrs.  Markham,  perhaps  from 
an  impulse  of  mischief  and  perhaps  from  a  natural 
love  of  sport,  fostered,  permitting  Prescott,  to  his 
relief,  to  retire  into  the  background. 

The  Secretary's  manner  was  smooth,  silky  and 
smiling;  he  never  raised  his  voice  above  its  natural 
pitch  nor  betrayed  otherwise  the  slightest  temper. 
He  now  led  the  talk  upon  the  army,  and  gently 
insinuated  that  whatever  misfortunes  had  befallen 
the  Confederacy  were  due  to  its  military  arm ;  perhaps 
to  a  lack  of  concord  among  the  generals,  perhaps  to 
hasty  and  imperfect  judgment  on  the  field,  or  per- 
haps to  a  failure  to  carry  out  the  complete  wishes  of 
the  Executive  Department. 

He  did  not  say  any  of  these  things  plainly,  merely 
hinting  them  in  the  mildest  manner.  Prescott, 
though  a  representative  of  the  army,  did  not  take 
any  of  it  to  himself,  knowing  well  that  it  was  intended 


1 30  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

for  the  General,  and  he  watched  curiously  to  see  how 
the  latter  would  reply. 

The  General  surprised  him,  developing  a  tact  and 
self-command,  a  knowledge  of  finesse  that  he  would 
not  have  believed  possible  in  a  rough  and  uneducated 
mountaineer.  But  the  same  quality,  the  wonderful 
perception,  or  rather  intuition,  that  had  made  Wood 
a  military  genius,  was  serving  him  here,  and  though 
he  perceived  at  once  the  drift  of  the  Secretary's 
remarks  and  their  intention,  he  preserved  his  cool- 
ness and  contented  himself  for  awhile  with  apparent 
ignorance.  This,  however,  did  not  check  the  attack, 
and  by  and  by  Wood,  too,  began  to  deal  in  veiled 
allusions  and  to  talk  of  a  great  general  and  devoted 
lieutenants  hampered  by  men  who  sat  in  their  chairs 
in  a  comfortable  building  before  glowing  fires  and 
gossiped  of  faults  committed  by  others  amid  the 
reek  of  desperate  fields. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Prescott 
stood  again  in  the  street  in  the  darkness  and  saw  the 
Secretary  taking  Helen  home  in  his  carriage. 


CHAPTER  X 

FEEDING    THE    HUNGRY 

"It  is  now  the  gossip  in  Richmond,"  said  Mrs. 
Prescott  to  her  son  as  they  sat  together  before  the 
fire  a  day  or  two  later,  "that  General  Wood  makes 
an  unusually  long  stay  here  for  a  man  who  loves  the 
saddle  and  war  as  he  does. " 

"Who  says  so,  mother?" 

"Well,  many  people." 

"  Who,  for  instance  ? " 

"Well,  the  Secretary,  Mr.  Sefton,  as  a  most  shining 
instance,  and  he  is  a  man  of  such  acute  perceptions 
that  he  ought  to  know. " 

Prescott  was  silent. 

"They  say  that  Mr.  Sefton  wants  something  that 
somebody  else  wants,"  she  continued.  "A  while 
back  it  was  another  person  whom  he  regarded  as  the 
opponent  to  his  wish,  but  now  he  seems  to  have  trans- 
ferred the  rivalry  to  General  Wood.  I  wonder  if  he 
is  right. " 

She  gazed  over  her  knitting  needles  into  the  fire  as 
if  she  would  read  the  answer  in  the  coals,  but  Prescott 
himself  did  not  assist  her,  though  he  wondered  at  what 
his  mother  was  aiming.  Was  she  seeking  to  arouse 
him  to  greater  vigour  in  his  suit?  Well,  he  loved 
Helen  Harley,  and  he  had  loved  her  ever  since  they 
were  little  boy  and  little  girl  together,  but  that  was 
no  reason  why  he  should  shout  his  love  to  all 
Richmond.  Sefton  and  Wood  might  shout  theirs, 
but  perhaps  he  should  fare  better  if  he  were  more 
quiet. 

Lonely  and  abstracted,  Prescott  wandered  about 
the  city  that  evening,  and  when  the  hour  seemed 
suitable,  bending  his  head  to  the  northern  blast,  he 


i32  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

turned  willing  steps  once  more  to  the  little  house  in 
the  cross  street,  wondering  meanwhile  what  its  two 
inmates  were  doing  and  how  they  fared. 

As  he  went  along  and  heard  the  wind  moaning 
among  the  houses  he  had  the  feeling  that  he  was 
watched.  He  looked  ahead  and  saw  nothing;  he 
looked  back  and  saw  nothing;  then  he  told  himself 
it  was  only  the  wind  rattling  among  loose  boards,  but 
his  fancy  refused  to  credit  his  own  words.  This  feel- 
ing that  he  was  watched,  spied  upon,  had  been  with 
him  several  days,  but  he  did  not  realize  it  fully  until 
the  present  moment,  when  he  was  again  upon  a 
delicate  errand,  one  perhaps  involving  a  bit  of  unfaith- 
fulness to  the  cause  for  which  he  fought.  He,  the 
bold  Captain,  the  veteran  of  thirty  battles,  shook 
slightly  and  then  told  himself  courageously  that  it  was 
not  a  nervous  chill ,  but  the  cold.  Yet  he  looked  around 
fearfully  and  wished  to  hear  other  footsteps,  to  see 
other  faces  and  to  feel  that  he  was  not  alone  on  such 
a  cold  and  dark  night — alone  save  for  the  unknown 
who  watched  him.  At  the  thought  he  looked  about 
again,  but  there  was  nothing,  not  even  the  faintest 
echo  of  a  footfall. 

The  chill,  the  feeling  of  oppression  passed  for  the 
time  and  he  hastened  to  the  side  street  and  the  little 
house.  It  was  too  dark  for  him  to  tell  whether  any 
wisp  of  smoke  rose  from  the  chimney,  and  no  light 
shone  from  the  window.  He  opened  the  little  gate 
and  passed  into  the  little  yard  where  the  snow  seemed 
to  be  yet  unbroken.  Then  he  slipped  two  of  the 
beautiful  gold  double  eagles  under  the  door  and 
almost  ran  away,  the  feeling  that  he  was  watched 
returning  to  him  and  hanging  on  his  back  like  crime 
on  the  mind  of  the  guilty. 

Prescott's  early  ancestors  had  been  great  borderers, 
renowned  Indian  fighters  and  adepts  in  the  ways  of 
the  forest,  when  the  red  men,  silent  and  tenacious, 
followed  upon  their  tracks  for  days  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  practise  every  art  to  throw  off  the  pursuers, 
unseen  but  known  to  be  there.  Unconsciously  a 
thin  strain  of  heredity  now  came  into  play,  and  he 
began  to  wind  about  the  city  before  going  home, 


FEEDING  THE   HUNGRY  133 

turning  suddenly  from  one  street  into  another,  and 
gliding  swiftly  now  and  then  in  the  darkest  shadow, 
making  it  difficult  for  pursuer,  if  pursuer  he  had,  to 
follow  him. 

He  did  not  reach  home  until  nearly  two  hours  after 
he  had  left  the  cottage,  and  then  his  fingers  and  ears 
were  blue  and  almost  stiff  with  cold. 

He  wandered  into  the  streets  again  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  ere  long  saw  a  slender  figure  ahead  of  him 
walking  with  decision  and  purpose.  Despite  the 
distance  and  the  vagueness  of  her  form  he  knew  that 
it  was  Miss  Grayson,  and  he  followed  more  briskly, 
drawn  by  curiosity  and  a  resolution  to  gratify  it. 

She  went  to  one  of  the  markets  and  began  to  barter 
for  food,  driving  a  sharp  bargain  and  taking  her  time. 
Prescott  loitered  near  and  at  last  came  very  close. 
There  were  several  others  standing  about,  but  if  she 
noticed  and  recognized  the  Captain  she  gave  no  sign, 
going  on  imperturbably  with  her  bargaining. 

Prescott  thought  once  or  twice  of  speaking  to  her, 
but  he  concluded  that  it  was  better  to  wait,  letting  her 
make  the  advances  if  she  would.  He  was  glad  of  his 
decision  a  few  minutes  later,  when  he  saw  a  new 
figure  approaching. 

The  new  arrival  was  Mr.  Sefton,  a  fur-lined  cloak 
drawn  high  around  his  neck  and  his  face  as  usual 
bland  and  smiling.  He  nodded  to  Prescott  and  then 
looked  at  Miss  Grayson,  but  for  the  moment  said 
nothing,  standing  by  as  if  he  preferred  to  wait  for 
whatever  he  had  in  mind. 

Miss  Grayson  finished  her  purchases,  and  drawing 
her  purse  took  forth  the  money  for  payment.  A 
yellow  gleam  caught  Prescott 's  eye  and  he  recognized 
one  of  his  double  eagles.  The  knowledge  sent  a  thrill 
through  him.  but  he  still  stood  in  silence,  glancing 
casually  about  him  and  waiting  for  one  of  the  others 
to  speak  first. 

Miss  Grayson  received  her  change  and  her  packages 
and  turned  to  go  away,  when  she  was  interrupted  by 
the  Secretarv,  with  no  expression  whatever  showing 
through  his  blandness  and  his  smiles. 

"It  is  Miss  Grayson,  is  it  not?"  he  said  smoothly. 


i34  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

She  turned  upon  him  a  cold  and  inquiring  look. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Sefton  of  the  Treasurer's  office,"  he  said 
in  the  same  even  tones — smooth  with  the  smoothness 
of  metal.  "  Perhaps  it  is  too  much  to  hope  that  you 
have  heard  of  me." 

"I  have  heard  of  you,"  she  said  with  increasing 
coldness. 

"And  I  of  you,"  he  continued.  "  Who  in  Richmond 
has  not  heard  of  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson,  the  gallant 
champion  of  the  Northern  Cause  and  of  the  Union  of 
the  States  forever  ?  I  do  not  speak  invidiously.  On 
the  contrary,  I  honour  you;  from  my  heart  I  do, 
Miss  Grayson.  Any  woman  who  has  the  courage 
amid  a  hostile  population  to  cling  to  what  she  believes 
is  the  right,  even  if  it  be  the  wrong,  is  entitled  to  our 
homage  and  respect." 

He  made  a  bow,  not  too  low,  then  raised  his  hand 
in  a  detaining  gesture  when  Miss  Grayson  turned  to 

go- 

"You  are  more  fortunate  than  we — we  who  are  in 
our  own  house — Miss  Grayson,"  he  said.  "You  pay 
in  gold  and  with  a  large  gold  piece,  too.  Excuse  me, 
but  I  could  not  help  noticing." 

Prescott  saw  a  quiver  on  her  lips  and  a  sudden  look 
of  terror  in  her  eyes ;  but  both  disappeared  instantly 
and  her  features  remained  rigid  and  haughty. 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  she  said  icily,  "I  am  a  woman,  alone 
in  the  world  and,  as  you  say,  amid  a  hostile  popula- 
tion; but  my  private  affairs  are  my  own." 

There  was  no  change  in  the  Secretary's  countenance ; 
he  was  still  bland,  smiling,  purring  like  a  cat. 

"Your  private  affairs,  Miss  Grayson,"  he  said,  "of 
course  !  None  would  think  of  questioning  that  state- 
ment. But  how  about  affairs  that  are  not  private  ? 
There  are  certain  public  duties,  owed  by  all  of  us  in  a 
time  like  this." 

"You  have  searched  my  house,"  she  said  in  the 
same  cold  tones;  "you  have  exposed  me  to  that 
indignity,  and  now  I  ask  you  to  leave  me  alone." 

"  Miss  Grayson,"  he  said,  "  I  would  not  trouble  you, 
but  the  sight  of  gold,  freshly  coined  gold  like  that  and 
of  so  great  a  value,  arouses  my  suspicions.  It  makes 


FEEDING  THE   HUNGRY  135 

a  question  spring  up  in  my  mind,  and  that  question  is, 
how  did  you  get  it?  Here  is  my  friend,  Captain 
Prescott;  he,  too,  no  doubt,  is  interested,  or  perhaps 
you  know  him  already." 

It  was  said  so  easily  and  carelessly  that  Prescott 
reproved  himself  when  he  feared  a  double  meaning 
lurking  under  the  Secretary's  words.  Nervousness 
or  incaution  on  the  part  of  Miss  Grayson  might 
betray  much.  But  the  look  she  turned  upon 
Prescott  was  like  that  with  which  she  had  favoured 
the  Secretary — chilly,  uncompromising  and  hostile. 

"I  do  not  know  your  friend,"  she  said. 

"But  he  was  with  the  officer  who  searched  your 
house,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"A  good  reason  why  I  should  not  know  him." 

The  Secretary  smiled. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  "you  are  unfortunate. 
You  do  not  seem  to  be  on  the  road  to  Miss  Grayson 's 
favour  " 

"  The  lady  does  not  know  me,  Mr.  Sefton,"  said 
Prescott,  "  and  it  cannot  be  any  question  of  either 
favour  or  disfavour." 

The  Secretary  was  now  gazing  at  Miss  Grayson, 
and  Prescott  used  the  chance  to  study  his  face.  This 
casual  but  constant  treading  of  the  Secretary  upon 
dangerous  ground  annoyed  and  alarmed  him.  How 
much  did  he  know,  if  anything?  Robert  would 
rather  be  in  the  power  of  any  other  man  than  the  one 
before  him. 

When  he  had  sought  in  vain  to  read  that  immovable 
face,  to  gather  there  some  intimation  of  his  purpose, 
the  old  feeling  of  fear,  the  feeling  that  had  haunted 
him  the  night  before  when  he  went  to  the  cottage, 
came  over  him  again.  The  same  chill  struck  him  to 
the  marrow,  but  his  will  and  pride  were  too  strong 
to  let  it  prevail.  It  was  still  a  calm  face  that  he 
showed  to  the  lady  and  the  Secretary. 

"If  you  have  not  known  Captain  Prescott  before, 
you  should  know  him  now,"  the  Secretary  was  saying. 
"A  gallant  officer,  as  he  has  proved  on  many  battle- 
fields, and  a  man  of  intelligence  and  feeling.  More- 
over, he  is  a  fair  enemy." 


i36  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Prescott  bowed  slightly  at  the  compliment,  but 
Miss  Grayson  was  immovable.  Apparently  the 
history  and  character  of  Captain  Robert  Prescott, 
C.  S.  A.,  were  of  no  earthly  interest  to  her,  and 
Prescott,  looking  at  her,  was  uncertain  if  the  indiffer- 
ence were  not  real  as  well  as  apparent. 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  said  Miss  Grayson,  "you  asked  an 
explanation  and  I  said  that  I  had  none  to  give,  nor 
have  I.  You  can  have  me  arrested  if  you  wish,  and  I 
await  your  order," 

"Not  at  all,  Miss  Grayson,"  replied  the  Secretary; 
"let  the  explanation  be  deferred." 

"Then,"  she  said  with  unchanging  coldness,  "I 
take  pleasure  in  bidding  you  good-day." 

"Good-day,"  rejoined  the  Secretary,  and  Prescott 
politely  added  his  own. 

Miss  Grayson,  without  another  word,  gathered  up 
her  bundles  and  left. 

"Slumbering  fire,"  said  the  Secretary,  looking  after 
her. 

"  Is  she  to  be  blamed  for  it  ? "  said  Prescott. 

"Did  my  tone  imply  criticism?"  the  Secretary 
asked,  looking  at  Prescott. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MR.    SEPTON    MAKES    A    CONFIDENCE 

Prescott  now  resolved,  whatever  happened,  to  make 
another  attempt  at  the  escape  of  Lucia  Catherwood. 
Threats  of  danger,  unspoken,  perhaps,  but  to  his  mind 
not  the  less  formidable,  were  multiplying,  and  he  did 
not  intend  that  they  should  culminate  in  disaster. 
The  figure  of  that  woman,  so  helpless  and  apparently 
the  sole  target  at  this  moment  of  a  powerful  Govern- 
ment, made  an  irresistible  appeal  to  him. 

But  there  were  moments  of  doubt,  when  he  asked 
himself  if  he  were  not  tricked  by  the  fancy,  or  rather 
by  a  clever  and  elusive  woman — as  cunning  as  she  was 
elusive — who  led  him,  and  who  looked  to  the  end  and 
not  to  the  means.  He  saw  something  repellent  in  the 
act  of  being  a  spy,  above  all  when  it  was  a  woman 
who  took  the  part.  His  open  nature  rejected  such  a 
trade,  even  if  it  were  confined  to  the  deed  of  a  moment 
done  under  impulse.  She  had  assured  him  that  she 
was  innocent,  and  there  was  a  look  of  truth  in  her  face 
when  she  said  it ;  but  to  say  it  and  to  look  it  was  in  the 
business  of  being  a  spy,  and  why  should  she  differ 
from  others? 

But  these  moments  were  brief ;  they  would  come  to 
his  mind  and  yet  his  mind  in  turn  would  cast  them 
out.  He  remembered  her  eyes,  the  swell  of  her  figure, 
her  noble  curves.  She  was  not  of  the  material  that 
would  turn  to  so  low  a  trade,  he  said  to  himself  over 
and  over  again. 

He  was  still  thinking  of  a  plan  to  save  her  and  trying 
to  find  a  way  when  a  message  arrived  directing  him  to 
report  at  once  to  the  Secretary  of  War.  He  surmised 
that  he  would  receive  instructions  to  rejoin  General 
Lee  as  soon  as  possible,  and  he  felt  a  keen  regret  that 

137 


138  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

he  should  not  have  time  to  do  the  thing  he  wished 
most  to  do ;  but  he  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the  order. 

The  Secretary  of  War  was  in  his  office,  sitting  in 
a  chair  near  the  window,  and  farther  away  slightly 
in  the  shadow  was  another  figure,  more  slender  but 
stronger.  Prescott  recognized  again,  with  that  sudden 
and  involuntary  feeling  of  fear,  the  power  of  the  man. 
It  was  Mr.  Sefton,  his  face  hidden  in  the  shadows,  and 
therefore  wholly  unread.  But  as  usual  the  inflexi- 
bility of  purpose,  the  hardening  of  resolve  followed 
Prescott 's  emotion,  and  his  figure  stiffened  as  he  stood 
at  attention  to  receive  the  commands  of  the  mighty — 
that  is,  the  Secretary  of  War  of  the  Confederate  States 
of  America. 

But  the  Secretary  of  War  was  not  harsh  or  fierce; 
instead,  he  politely  invited  the  young  Captain  to  a 
chair  and  spoke  to  him  in  complimentary  terms, 
referring  to  his  gallant  services  on  many  battlefields, 
and  declaring  them  not  unknown  to  those  who  held 
the  strings  of  power.  Mr.  Sefton,  from  the  security 
of  the  shadows,  merely  nodded  to  their  guest,  and 
Prescott  returned  the  welcome  in  like  fashion,  every 
nerve  attuned  for  what  he  expected  to  prove  an  ordeal. 

"Many  officers  are  brave,"  began  the  Secretary  of 
War,  "and  it  is  not  the  highest  compliment  when  we 
call  you  such,  Captain  Prescott.  Indeed,  we  mean  to 
speak  much  better  of  you  when  we  say  that  you  have 
bravery,  allied  with  coolness  and  intelligence.  When 
we  find  these  in  one  person  we  have  the  ideal  officer.  " 

Prescott  could  not  do  less  than  bow  to  this  flattery, 
but  he  wondered  what  such  a  curious  prelude  fore- 
shadowed. "It  means  no  good  to  me,"  he  thought, 
"or  he  would  not  begin  with  such  praise."  But  he 
said  aloud: 

"I  am  sure  I  have  some  zealous  friend  to  thank 
for  commendation  so  much  beyond  my  desert.  " 

"It  is  not  beyond  your  desert,  but  you  have  a 
friend  to  thank  nevertheless,"  replied  the  Secretary 
of  War.  "A  friend,  too,  whom  no  man  need  despise. 
I  allude  to  Mr.  Sefton  here,  one  of  the  ablest  members 
of  the  Government,  one  who  surpasses  most  of  us  in 
insight  and  pertinacity.  It  is  he  who,  because  of  his 


MR.   SEFTON   MAKES  A  CONFIDENCE  139 

friendship  for  you  and  faith  in  you,  wishes  to  have 
you  chosen  for  an  important  and  delicate  service 
which  may  lead  to  promotion. " 

Prescott  stared  at  this  man  whose  words  rang  so 
hollow  in  his  ear,  but  he  could  see  no  sign  of  guile  or 
satire  on  the  face  of  the  Secretary  of  War.  On  the 
contrary,  it  bore  every  appearance  of  earnestness,  and 
he  became  convinced  that  the  appearance  was  just. 
Then  he  cast  one  swift  glance  at  the  inscrutable 
Mr.  Sefton,  who  still  sat  in  the  shadow  and  did  not 
move. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  words, "  he  said  to  the 
Secretary  of  War,  "and  I  shall  appreciate  very  much 
the  honour,  of  which  you  give  me  an  intimation. " 

The  great  man  smiled.  It  is  pleasant  to  us  all  to 
confer  benefits  and  still  pleasanter  to  know  that  they 
are  appreciated. 

"It  is  a  bit  of  work  in  the  nature  of  secret  service, 
Captain  Prescott,"  he  continued,  "and  it  demands  a 
wary  eye  and  a  discerning  mind. " 

Prescott  shuddered  with  repulsion.  Instinctively 
he  foresaw  what  was  coming,  and  there  was  no  task 
which  he  would  not  have  preferred  in  its  place.  And 
he  was  expected,  too,  at  such  a  moment,  to  look 
grateful. 

"You  will  recall  the  episode  of  the  spy  and  the 
abstraction  of  the  papers  from  the  President's  office, " 
continued  the  Secretary  of  War  in  orotund  and  com- 
plaisant tones.  "  It  may  seem  to  the  public  that  we 
have  dropped  this  matter,  which  is  just  what  we  wish 
the  public  to  think,  as  it  may  lull  the  suspicions  of 
the  suspected.  But  we  are  more  resolved  than  ever 
to  secure  the  guilty!" 

Prescott  glanced  again  at  Mr.  Sefton,  but  he  still 
sat  in  the  shadow,  and  Prescott  believed  that  he 
had  not  yet  moved  either  hand  or  foot  in  the  whole 
interview. 

"To  be  brief,  Captain  Prescott,"  resumed  the 
Secretary  of  War,  "we  wish  you  to  take  charge  of 
this  service  which,  I  repeat,  we  consider  delicate  and 
important. " 

'  Now?"  asked  Prescott. 


i4o  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"No,  not  immediately — in  two  or  three  days,  per- 
haps; we  shall  notify  you.  We  are  convinced  the 
guilty  are  yet  in  Richmond  and  cannot  escape.  It  is 
important  that  we  capture  them,  as  we  may  unearth 
a  nest  of  conspirators.  I  trust  that  you  see  the 
necessity  of  our  action.  " 

Prescott  bowed,  though  he  was  raging  inwardly, 
and  it  was  in  his  mind  to  decline  abruptly  such  a 
service,  but  second  thought  told  him  a  refusal  might 
make  a  bad  matter  worse.  He  would  have  given 
much,  too,  to  see  the  face  of  Mr.  Sefton — his  fancy 
painted  there  a  smile  of  irony. 

As  the  Secretary  of  War  seemed  to  have  said  all  that 
he  intended,  Prescott  turned  to  go,  but  he  added  a 
word  of  thanks  to  Mr.  Sefton,  whose  voice  he  wished 
to  hear.  Mr.  Sefton  merely  nodded,  and  the  young 
Captain,  as  he  went  out,  hesitated  on  the  doorstep 
as  if  he  expected  to  hear  sardonic  laughter  behind 
him.  He  heard  nothing. 

The  fierce  touch  of  the  winter  outside  cooled  his 
blood,  and  as  he  walked  toward  his  home  he  tried  to 
think  of  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  He  kept  repeat- 
ing to  himself  the  words  of  the  Secretary  of  War: 
"In  two  or  three  days  we  shall  send  for  you,"  and 
from  this  constant  repetition  an  idea  was  born  in  his 
head.  "Much  may  be  done  in  two  or  three  days," 
he  said  to  himself,  "and  if  a  man  can  do  it  I  will!" 
and  he  said  it  with  a  sense  of  defiance. 

His  brain  grew  hot  with  the  thought,  and  he  walked 
about  the  city,  not  wishing  yet  to  return  to  his  home. 
He  had  been  walking,  he  knew  not  how  long,  when  a 
hand  fell  lightly  upon  his  arm  and,  turning,  he  beheld 
the  bland  face  of  Mr.  Sefton. 

"May  I  walk  a  little  with  you,  Captain  Prescott?" 
he  said.  "  Two  heads  are  sometimes  better  than  one." 

Prescott  was  hot  alike  with  his  idea  and  with  wrath 
over  his  recent  ordeal ;  moreover,  he  hated  secret  and 
underhand  parts,  and  spoke  impulsively : 

"Mr.  Secretary,  I  have  you  to  thank  for  this  task, 
and  I  do  not  thank  you  at  all ! " 

"Why  not  ?  Most  young  officers  wish  a  chance  for 
promotion. " 


MR.   SEFTON   MAKES  A   CONFIDENCE  141 

"  But  you  set  me  spying  to  catch  a  spy !  There  are 
few  things  in  the  world  that  I  would  rather  not  do. " 

"You  say  'you  set  me  spying'!  My  dear  sir,  it 
was  the  Secretary  of  War,  not  I. " 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  exclaimed  Prescott  angrily,  "why 
should  we  fence  with  words  any  longer?  It  is  you 
and  you  alone  who  are  at  the  bottom  of  this  ! " 

"Since  that  is  your  theory,  my  dear  Captain,  what 
motive  would  you  assign?" 

Prescott  was  slow  to  wrath,  but  when  moved  at  last 
he  had  little  fear  of  consequences,  and  it  was  so  with 
him  now.  He  faced  the  Secretary  and  gazed  at  him 
steadily,  even  inquiringly.  But,  as  usual,  he  read 
nothing  in  the  bland,  unspeaking  countenance 
before  him. 

"There  is  a  motive,  an  ulterior  motive,"  he 
replied.  "For  days  now  you  have  been  persecuting 
me  and  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  for  a  purpose. " 

"And  if  so  ready  to  read  an  unspoken  purpose  in 
my  mind,  then  why  not  read  the  cause  of  it  ? " 

Prescott  hesitated.  This  calm,  expressionless  man 
with  the  impression  of  power  troubled  him.  The 
Secretary  again  put  his  hand  lightly  upon  his  arm. 

"We  are  near  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  Captain," 
said  Mr.  Sefton,  "and  I  suggest  that  we  walk  on 
toward  the  fortifications  in  order  that  none  may 
overhear  what  we  have  to  say.  It  may  be  that  you 
and  I  shall  arrive  at  such  an  understanding  that  we 
can  remain  friends." 

There  was  suggestion  in  the  Secretary's  words  for 
the  first  time,  likewise  a  command,  and  Prescott 
willingly  adopted  his  plan.  Together  the  two  strolled 
on  through  the  fields. 

"I  have  a  tale  to  tell,"  began  the  Secretary,  "and 
there  are  preliminaries  and  exordiums,  but  first  of  all 
there  is  a  question.  Frankly,  Captain  Prescott,  what 
kind  of  a  man  do  you  think  I  am  ? " 

Prescott    hesitated. 

"I  see  you  do  not  wish  to  speak,"  continued  the 
Secretary,  "because  the  portrait  you  would  paint  is 
unflattering,  but  I  will  paint  it  for  you — at  least,  the 
one  that  you  have  in  your  mind's  eye.  You  think  me 


i42  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

sly  and  intriguing,  eaten  up  by  ambition,  and  caring 
for  nobody  in  the  world  but  myself.  A  true  portrait, 
perhaps,  so  far  as  the  external  phases  go,  and  the 
light  in  which  I  often  wish  to  appear  to  the  world,  but 
not  true  in  reality. " 

Prescott  waited  in  silence  to  hear  what  the  other 
might  have  to  say,  and  whatever  it  was  he  was  sure 
that  it  would  be  of  interest. 

"That  I  am  ambitious  is  true,"  continued  the 
Secretary;  "there  are  few  men  not  old  who  are  not  so, 
and  I  think  it  better  to  have  ambition  than  to  be 
without  it.  But  if  I  have  ambition  I  also  have  other 
qualities.  I  like  my  friends — I  like  you  and  would 
continue  to  like  you,  Captain  Prescott,  if  you  would 
let  me.  It  is  said  here  that  I  am  not  a  true  Southerner, 
whatever  may  be  my  birth,  as  my  coldness,  craft  and 
foresight  are  not  Southern  characteristics.  That 
may  be  true,  but  at  least  I  am  Southern  in  another 
character— I  have  strong,  even  violent  emotions,  and 
I  love  a  woman.  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice  much  for 
her. " 

The  Secretary's  hand  was  still  resting  lightly  on 
Prescott 's  arm,  and  the  young  Captain,  feeling  it 
tremble,  knew  that  his 'companion  told  the  truth. 

"Yes,"  resumed  Mr.  Sefton,  "I  love  a  woman, 
and  with  all  the  greater  fire  because  I  am  naturally 
undemonstrative  and  self-centred.  The  stream 
comes  with  an  increased  rush  when  it  has  to  break 
through  the  ice.  I  love  a  woman,  I  say,  and  I  am 
determined  to  have  her.  You  know  well  who  it  is  ! " 

"Helen  Harley, "  said  Prescott. 

"I  love  Helen  Harley,"  continued  the  Secretary, 
"  and  there  are  two  men  of  whom  I  am  jealous,  but  I 
shall  speak  first  of  one — the  one  whom  I  have  feared 
the  longer  and  the  more.  He  is  a  soldier,  a  young 
man  commended  often  by  his  superiors  for  gallantry 
arid  skill — deservedly  so,  too — I  do  not  seek  to 
deny  it.  He  is  here  in  Richmond  now,  and  he  has 
known  Helen  Harley  all  his  life.  They  were  boy  and 
girl  together.  But  he  has  become  mixed  in  an 
intrigue  here.  There  is  another  woman " 

"  Mr.  Sefton  !     You  proposed  that  we  understand 


MR.    SEFTON   MAKES  A   CONFIDENCE  143 

each  other,  and  that  is  just  what  I  wish,  too.  You 
have  been  watching  me  all  this  time. " 

"Watching  you!  Yes,  I  have,  and  to  purpose!" 
exclaimed  the  Secretary.  "You  have  done  few 
things  in  Richmond  that  have  not  come  to  my  knowl- 
edge. Again  I  ask  you  what  kind  of  a  man  do  you 
think  I  am  ?  When  I  saw  you  standing  in  my  path  I 
resolved  that  no  act  of  yours  should  escape  me.  You 
know  of  this  spy,  Lucia  Catherwood,  and  you  know 
where  she  is.  You  see,  I  have  even  her  name.  Once 
I  intended  to  arrest  her  and  expose  you  to  disgrace, 
but  she  had  gone.  I  am  glad  now  that  we  did  not 
find  her.  I  have  a  better  use  for  her  uncaught, 
though  it  annoys  me  that  I  cannot  yet  discover  where 
she  was  when  we  searched  that  house." 

The  cold  chill  which  he  had  felt  before  in  the 
presence  of  this  man  assailed  Prescott  again.  He  was 
wholly  within  his  power,  and  metaphorically,  he  could 
be  broken  on  the  wheel  if  the  adroit  and  ruthless 
Secretary  wished  it.  He  bit  his  dry  lip,  but  said 
nothing,  still  waiting  for  the  other. 

"  I  repeat  that  I  have  a  better  use  for  Miss  Cather- 
wood," continued  Mr.  Sefton.  "Do  you  think  I 
should  have  gone  to  all  this  trouble  and  touched 
upon  so  many  springs  merely  to  capture  one  mis- 
guided girl  ?  What  harm  can  she  do  us  ?  Do  you 
think  the  result  of  a  great  war  and  the  fate  of  a  con- 
tinent are  to  be  decided  by  a  pair  of  dark  eyes?" 

They  were  walking  now  along  a  half-made  street 
that  led  into  the  fields.  Behind  them  lay  the  city, 
and  before  them  the  hills  and  the  forest,  all  in  a  robe 
of  white.  Thin  columns  of  smoke  rose  from  the 
earthworks,  where  the  defenders  hovered  over  the 
fires,  but  no  one  was  near  enough  to  hear  what  the 
two  men  said. 

"Then  why  have  you  held  your  hand?"  asked 
Prescott. 

"Why?"  and  the  Secretary  actually  laughed,  a 
smooth,  noiseless  laugh,  but  a  laugh  nevertheless, 
though  so  full  of  a  snaky  cunning  that  Prescott 
started  as  if  he  had  been  bitten.  "Why,  because  I 
wished  you,  Robert  Prescott,  whom  I  feared,  to 


144  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

become  so  entangled  that  you  would  be  helpless  in 
my  hands,  and  that  you  have  done.  If  I  wish  I  can 
have  you  dismissed  from  the  army  in  disgrace — shot, 
perhaps,  as  a  traitor.  In  any  event,  your  future  lies 
in  the  hollow  of  my  hand.  You  are  wholly  at  my 
mercy.  I  speak  a  word  and  you  are  ruined." 

"Why  not  speak  it?"  Prescott  asked  calmly.  His 
first  impulse  had  passed,  and  though  his  tongue  was 
dry  in  his  mouth  the  old  hardening  resolve  to  fight  to 
the  last  came  again. 

"Why  not  speak  it?  Because  I  do  not  wish  to  do 
so — at  least,  not  yet.  Why  should  I  ruin  you?  I 
do  not  dislike  you;  on  the  contrary,  I  like  you,  as  I 
have  told  you.  So,  I  shall  wait." 

"What  then?" 

"Then  I  shall  demand  a  price.  I  am  not  in  this 
world  merely  to  pass  through  it  mechanically,  like 
a  clock  wound  up  for  a  certain  time.  No;  I  want 
things  and  I  intend  to  have  them.  I  plan  for  them 
and  I  make  sacrifices  to  get  them.  My  one  desire  most 
of  all  is  Helen  Harley,  but  you  are  in  the  way.  Stand 
out  of  it — withdraw — and  no  word  of  mine  shall  ever 
tell  what  I  know.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  there 
shall  be  no  Lucia  Catherwood.  I  will  do  more:  I  will 
smooth  her  way  from  Richmond  for  her.  Now,  like 
a  wise  man,  pay  this  price,  Captain  Prescott.  It 
should  not  be  hard  for  you. 

He  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  tone  half  insinuating, 
half  ironical.  Prescott  flushed  a  deep  red.  He  did 
love  Helen  Harley;  he  had  always  loved  her.  He  had 
not  been  away  from  her  so  much  recently  because  of 
any  decrease  in  that  love;  it  was  his  misfortune — the 
pressure  of  ugly  affairs  that  compelled  him.  Was 
the  love  he  bore  her  to  be  thrown  aside  for  a  price  ? 
A  price  like  that  was  too  high  to  pay  for  anything. 

"Mr.  Secretary,"  he  replied  icily,  "they  say  that 
you  are  not  of  the  South  in  some  of  your  character- 
istics, and  I  think  you  are  not.  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  accept  such  a  proposition  ?  I  could  not 
dream  of  it.  I  should  despise  myself  forever  if  I 
were  to  do  such  a  thing." 

He  stopped  and  faced  the  Secretary  angrily,  but 


MR.    SEFTON   MAKES  A  CONFIDENCE  145 

he  saw  no  reflection  of  his  own  wrath  in  the 
other's  face;  on  the  contrary,  he  had  never  before 
seen  him  look  so  despondent.  There  was  plenty 
of  expression  now  on  his  countenance  as  he 
moodily  kicked  a  lump  of  snow  out  of  his  way. 
Then  Mr.  Sefton  said: 

"Do  you  know  in  my  heart  I  expected  you  to  make 
that  answer.  You  would  never  have  put  such  an 
alternative  to  a  rival,  but  I — I  am  different.  Am 
I  responsible?  No;  you  and  I  are  the  product  of 
different  soils  and  we  look  at  things  in  a  different 
way.  You  do  not  know  my  history.  Few  do  here 
in  Richmond — perhaps  none;  but  you  shall  know, 
and  then  you  will  understand." 

Prescott  saw  that  this  man,  who  a  moment  ago  was 
threatening  him,  was  deeply  moved,  and  he  waited 
in  wonder. 

"You  have  never  known  what  it  is,"  resumed  the 
Secretary,  speaking.in  short,  choppy  tones  so  unlike 
his  usual  manner  that  the  voice  might  have  belonged 
to  another  man,  "to  belong  to  the  lowest  class  of  our 
people — a  class  so  low  that  even  the  negro  slaves 
sneered  at  and  despised  it ;  to  be  born  to  a  dirt  floor, 
and  a  rotten  board  roof  and  four  log  walls!  A 
goodly  heritage,  is  it  not  ?  Was  not  Providence  kind 
to  me  ?  And  is  it  not  a  just  and  kind  Providence  ?" 

He  laughed  with  concentrated  bitterness,  and  a 
feeling  of  pity  for  this  man  whom  he  had  been  dreading 
so  much  stole  over  Prescott. 

"We  talk  of  freedom  and  equality  here  in  the 
South,"  continued  the  Secretary,  "and  we  say  we  are 
fighting  for  it ;  but  not  in  England  itself  is  class  feeling 
stronger,  and  that  is  what  we  are  fighting  to  perpetuate. 
I  say  that  you  have  no  such  childhood  as  mine  to 
look  back  to — the  squalour,  the  ignorance,  the  sin,  the 
misery,  and  above  all  the  knowledge  that  you  have 
a  brain  in  your  head  and  the  equal  knowledge  that 
you  are  forbidden  to  use  it — that  places  and  honours 
are  not  for  you !" 

Again  he  fiercely  kicked  a  clump  of  snow  from  his 
path  and  gazed  absently  across  the  fields  toward  the 
wintry  horizon,  his  face  full  of  passionate  protestation. 


146  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Prescott  was  still  silent,  his  own  position  forgotten 
now  in  the  interest  aroused  by  this  sudden  outburst. 

"If  you  are  born  a  clod  it  is  best  to  be  a  clod," 
continued  the  Secretary,  "but  that  I  was  not.  As 
I  said,  I  have  a  brain  in  my  head,  and  eyes  to  see. 
From  the  first  I  despised  the  squalour  and  the  misery 
around  me,  and  resolved  to  rise  above  it  despite  all 
the  barriers  of  a  slave-holding  aristocracy,  the  most 
exclusive  aristocracy  in  the  world.  I  thought  of 
nothing  else.  You  do  not  know  my  struggles;  you 
cannot  guess  them — the  years  and  the  years  and  all 
the  bitter  nights.  They  say  that  any  oppressed  and 
despised  race  learns  and  practises  craft  and  cunning. 
So  does  a  man ;  he  must — he  has  no  other  choice. 

"I  learned  craft  and  cunning  and  practised  them, 
too,  because  I  had  to  do  so.  I  did  things  that  you 
have  never  done  because  you  were  not  driven  to 
them,  and  at  last  I  saw  the  seed  that  I  had  planted 
begin  to  grow.  Then  I  felt  a  joy  that  you  can  never 
feel  because  you  have  never  worked  for  an  object, 
and  never  will  work  for  it,  as  I  have  done.  I  have 
triumphed.  The  best  in  the  South  obey  me  because 
they  must.  It  is  not  the  title  or  the  name,  for  there 
are  those  higher  than  mine,  but  it  is  the  power,  the 
feeling  that  I  have  the  reins  in  my  hand  and  can 
guide." 

"If  you  have  won  your  heart's  desire  why  do  you 
rail  at  fate  ?"  asked  Prescott. 

"Because  I  have  not  won  my  wish — not  all  of  it. 
They  say  there  is  a  weak  spot  in  every  man's  armour; 
there  is  always  an  Achilles'  heel.  I  am  no  exception. 
Well,  the  gods  ordained  that  I,  James  Sefton,  a  man 
who  thought  himself  made  wholly  of  steel,  should 
fall  in  love  with  a  piece  of  pink-and-white  girlhood. 
What  a  ridiculous  bit  of  nonsense !  I  suppose  it 
was  done  to  teach  me  I  am  a  fool  just  like  other 
men.  I  had  begun  to  believe  that  I  was  exceptional, 
but  I  know  better  now." 

"Then  you  call  this  a  weakness  and  regret  it  ?" 

"Yes,  because  it  interferes  with  all  my  plans.  The 
time  that  I  should  be  devoting  to  ambition  I  must 
sacrifice  for  a  weakness  of  the  heart." 


MR.    SEFTON   MAKES  A  CONFIDENCE  147 

The  low  throb  of  a  distant  drum  came  from  a 
rampart,  and  the  Secretary  raised  his  head,  as  if  the 
sound  gave  a  new  turn  to  his  thoughts. 

"Even  the  plans  of  ambition  may  crumble,"  he 
said.  "Since  I  am  speaking  frankly  of  one  thing, 
Captain  Prescott,  I  may  speak  likewise  of  another. 
Have  you  ever  thought  how  unstable  may  prove  this 
Southern  Confederacy  for  which  we  are  spending  so 
much  blood  ?" 

"I  have,"  replied  Prescott  with  involuntary  em- 
phasis. 

"So  have  I;  again  I  speak  to  you  with  perfect 
frankness,  because  it  will  not  be  to  your  profit  to 
repeat  what  I  say.  Do  you  realize  that  we  are  fight- 
ing against  the  tide,  or,  to  put  it  differently,  against 
the  weight  of  all  the  ages  ?  When  one  is  championing 
a  cause  opposed  to  the  tendency  of  human  affairs  his 
victories  are  worse  than  his  defeats  because  they 
merely  postpone  the  certain  catastrophe.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  slave-holding  aristocracy  under  any 
circumstances  to  exist  much  longer  in  the  world. 
When  the  apple  is  ripe  it  drops  off  the  tree,  and  we 
cannot  stay  human  progress.  The  French  Revolution 
was  bound  to  triumph  because  the  institutions  that 
it  destroyed  were  worn  out;  the  American  Colonies 
were  bound  to  win  in  their  struggle  with  Britain 
because  nature  had  decreed  the  time  for  parting ;  and 
even  if  we  should  succeed  in  this  contest  we  should 
free  the  slaves  ourselves  inside  of  twenty  years, 
because  slavery  is  now  opposed  to  common  sense  as 
well  as  to  morality." 

"Then  why  do  you  espouse  such  a  cause?"  asked 
Prescott. 

"Why  do  you?"  replied  the  Secretary  very  quickly. 

It  was  a  question  that  Prescott  never  yet  had  been 
able  to  answer  to  his  own  complete  satisfaction,  and 
now  he  preferred  silence.  But  no  reply  seemed  to  be 
expected,  as  the  Secretary  continued  to  talk  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy,  the  plan  upon  which  it  was 
formed,  and  its  abnormal  position  in  the  world, 
expressing  himself,  as  he  had  said  he  would,  with  the 
most  perfect  frankness,  displaying  all  the  qualities  of 


i48  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

a  keen  analytical  and  searching  mind.  He  showed 
how  the  South  was  one-sided,  how  it  had  cultivated 
only  one  or  two  forms  of  intellectual  endeavour,  and 
therefore,  so  he  said,  was  not  fitted  in  its  present 
mood  to  form  a  calm  judgment  of  great  affairs. 

The  South  is  not  sufficiently  arithmetical,"  he  said ; 
"statistics  are  dry,  but  they  are  very  useful  on  the 
eve  of  a  great  war.  The  South,  however,  has  always 
scorned  mathematics;  she  doesn't  know  even  now 
the  vast  resources  of  the  North,  her  tremendous 
industrial  machinery  which  also  supports  the  machin- 
ery of  war,  and  above  all  she  does  not  know  that  the 
North  is  only  now  beginning  to  be  aroused.  Even 
to  this  day  the  South  is  narrow,  and,  on  the  whole, 
ignorant  of  the  world." 

Prescott,  who  knew  these  things  already,  did  not 
like,  nevertheless,  to  hear  them  said  by  another,  and 
he  was  in  arms  at  once  to  defend  his  native  section. 

"It  may  be  as  you  say,  Mr.  Secretary,"  he  replied, 
"and  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  true  that  the  North  is  just 
gathering  her  full  strength  for  the  war,  but  you  will 
see  no  shirking  of  the  struggle  on  the  part  of  the 
Southern  people.  They  are  rooted  deep  in  the  soil, 
and  will  make  a  better  fight  because  of  the  faults  to 
which  you  point." 

The  Secretary  did  not  reply.  They  were  now  close 
to  the  fortifications  and  could  see  the  sentinels,  as  they 
walked  the  earthworks,  blowing  on  their  fingers  to 
keep  them  warm.  On  one  side  they  caught  a  slight 
glimpse  of  the  river,  a  sheet  of  ice  in  its  bed,  and  on 
the  other  the  hills,  with  the  trees  glittering  in  icy 
sheaths  like  coats  of  mail. 

"It  is  time  to  turn  back,"  said  Mr.  Sefton,  "and  I 
wish  to  say  again  that  I  like  you,  but  I  also  warn  you 
once  more  that  I  shall  not  spare  you  because  of  it ;  my 
weakness  does  not  go  so  far.  I  wish  you  out  of  my 
way,  and  I  have  offered  you  an  alternative  which 
you  decline.  Many  men  in  my  position  would  have 
crushed  you  at  once ;  so  I  take  credit  to  myself.  You 
adhere  to  your  refusal?" 

"Certainly  I  do,"  replied  Prescott  with  emphasis. 

"And  you  take  the  risk?" 


MR.    SEFTON    MAKES  A  CONFIDENCE  149 

"I  take  the  risk." 

"Very  well,  there  is  no  need  to  say  more.  I  warn 
you  to  look  out  for  yourself." 

"I  shall  do  so,"  replied  Prescott,  and  he  laughed 
lightly  and  with  a  little  irony. 

They  walked  slowly  back  to  the  city,  saying  no 
more  on  the  subject  which  lay  nearest  to  their  hearts, 
but  talking  of  the  war  and  its  chances.  A  company 
of  soldiers  shivering  in  their  scanty  gray  uniforms 
passed  them. 

"From  Mississippi,"  said  the  Secretary;  "they 
arrived  only  yesterday,  and  this,  though  the  south 
to  us,  is  a  cruel  north  to  them.  But  there  will  not  be 
many  like  these  to  come." 

They  parted  in  the  city,  and  the  Secretary  did  not 
repeat  his  threats ;  but  Prescott  knew  none  the  less 
that  he  meant  them. 


CHAPTER   XII 

A     FLIGHT     BY     TWO 

It  was  about  ten  by  the  watch,  and  a  very  cold, 
dark  and  quiet  night,  when  Prescott  reached  the 
Grayson  cottage  and  paused  a  moment  at  the  gate, 
the  dry  snow  crumbling  under  his  heels.  There  was 
no  light  in  the  window,  nor  could  he  see  any  smoke 
rising  from  the  chimney.  The  coal  must  be  approach- 
ing the  last  lump,  he  thought,  and  the  gold  would  be 
gone  soon,  too.  But  there  was  another  and  greater 
necessity  than  either  of  those  driving  him  on,  and, 
opening  the  gate,  he  quickly  knocked  upon  the  door. 
It  was  low  but  heavy,  a  repeated  and  insistent  knock, 
like  the  muffled  tattoo  of  a  drum,  and  at  last  Miss 
Grayson  answered,  opening  the  door  a  scant  four 
inches  and  staring  out  with  bright  eyes. 

"Mr.  Prescott!"  she  exclaimed,  "it  is  you!  You 
again !  Ah,  I  have  warned  you  and  for  your  own 
good,  too!  You  cannot  enter  here!" 

"But  I  must  come  in,"  he  replied;  "and  it  is 
for  my  own  good,  too,  as  well  as  yours  and  Miss 
Catherwood's. " 

She  looked  at  him  with  searching  inquiry. 

"Don't  you  see  that  I  am  freezing  on  your  door- 
step?" he  said  humourously. 

He  saw  her  frown  plainly  by  the  faint  flicker  of 
the  firelight,  and  knew  she  did  not  relish  a  jest  at 
such  a  time. 

"Let  me  in  and  I  will  tell  you  everything,"  he 
added  quickly.  "It  is  an  errand  more  urgent  than 
any  on  which  I  have  come  before. " 

She  opened  the  door  slowly,  belief  and  unbelief 
competing  in  her  mind,  and  when  it  was  closed  again 
Prescott  insisted  upon  knowing  at  once  if  Miss 
Catherwood  were  still  in  the  house. 

150 


A   FLIGHT   BY  TWO  iSI 

"Yes,  she  is  here,"  Miss  Grayson  replied  at  last 
and  reluctantly. 

"Then  I  must  see  her  and  see  her  now, "  said  Pres- 
cott,  as  he  quietly  took  a  seat  in  the  chair  before  her. 

"  You  cannot  see  her  again, "  said  Miss  Grayson. 

"I  do  not  move  from  this  chair  until  she  comes," 
said  Prescott  resolutely,  as  he  spread  his  fingers  out 
to  the  tiny  blaze. 

Miss  Grayson  gave  him  one  angry  glance ;  her  lips 
moved  as  if  she  would  say  something,  but  changing 
her  mind,  she  took  a  chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire 
and  her  face  also  bore  the  cast  of  resolution. 

"It  is  no  use,  Miss  Grayson,"  said  Prescott.  "I 
am  here  for  the  best  of  purposes,  I  assure  you,  and  I 
will  not  stir.  Please  call  Miss  Catherwood." 

Miss  Grayson  held  out  for  a  minute  or  two  longer, 
and  then,  a  red  spot  in  either  cheek,  she  walked  into 
the  next  room  and  returned  with  Lucia. 

Prescott  knew  her  step,  light  as  it  was,  before  she 
came,  and  his  heart  beat  a  little  more  heavily.  He 
rose,  too,  and  bowed  with  deep  respect  when  she 
appeared,  feeling  a  strange  thrill  of  pleasure  at  seeing 
her  again. 

He  had  wondered  in  what  aspect  she  would  appear, 
she  whose  nature  seemed  to  him  so  varied  and  con- 
tradictory, and  whose  face  was  the  index  to  these 
changing  phases.  She  came  in  quietly,  a  young  girl, 
pale,  inquiring,  yet  saying  no  word;  but  there  was  a 
sparkle  in  her  gaze  that  made  the  blood  leap  for  a 
moment  to  Prescott 's  face. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said,  "you  forbade  me  to 
return  here,  but  I  have  come  nevertheless. " 

She  was  still  silent,  her  inquiring  look  upon  him. 

"You  must  leave  Richmond  to-night!"  he  said. 
"There  must  be  no  delay." 

She  made  a  gesture  as  if  she  would  call  his  attention 
to  the  frozen  world  outside  and  said : 

"  I  am  willing  enough  to  leave  Richmond  if  I  knew 
a  way." 

"  I  will  find  the  way — I  go  with  you  !" 

"That  I  cannot  permit;  you  shall  not  risk  your 
future  by  making  such  an  attempt  with  me." 


152  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"  It  will  certainly  be  risked  greatly  if  I  do  not  make 
the  attempt  with  you, "  he  replied. 

They  looked  at  him  in  wonder.  Prescott  saw  now, 
by  a  sudden  intuition,  the  course  of  action  that  would 
appeal  to  them  most,  and  he  said: 

"  It  is  as  much  for  my  sake  as  it  is  for  yours.  That 
you  are  here  is  known  to  a  man  powerful  in  this 
Government,  and  he  knows  also  that  I  am  aware  of 
your  presence.  There  is  to  be  another  search  for  you 
and  I  shall  be  forced  to  lead  it.  It  means  my  ruin 
unless  you  escape  before  that  search  begins. " 

Then  he  explained  to  them  as  much  as  he  thought 
necessary,  although  he  did  not  give  Mr.  Sefton's 
name,  and  dwelt  artfully  upon  his  own  peril  rather 
than  upon  hers. 

Lucia  Catherwood  neither  moved  nor  spoke  as 
Prescott  told  the  story.  Once  there  was  a  strange 
light  in  her  eyes  as  she  regarded  him,  but  it  was 
momentary,  gone  like  a  flash,  and  her  face  remained 
expressionless. 

"  But  is  there  a  way  ? "  asked  Miss  Grayson  in  doubt 
and  alarm. 

"I  shall  find  a  way,"  replied  Prescott  confidently. 
"Lift  the  curtain  from  the  window  and  look.  The 
night  is  dark  and  cold ;  all  who  can  will  be  under  roofs, 
and  even  the  sentinels  will  hug  walls  and  earthworks. 
Now  is  our  time. " 

"You  must  go,  Lucia,"  said  Miss  Grayson  deci- 
sively. 

Miss  Catherwood  bowed  assent  and  went  at  once 
to  the  next  room  to  prepare  for  the  journey. 

"Will  you  care  for  her  as  if  she  were  your  own, 
your  sister?"  asked  Miss  Grayson,  turning  appeal  - 
ingly  to  Prescott. 

"As  God  is  my  witness,"  he  replied,  and  the  ring 
in  his  tone  was  so  deep  and  true  that  she  could  not 
doubt  it. 

"I  believe  you,"  said  this  bravest  of  old  maids, 
looking  him  steadfastly  in  the  eye  for  a  few  moments 
and  then  following  the  girl  into  the  next  room. 

Prescott  sat  alone  by  the  fire,  staring  at  three  or 
four  coals  that  glowed  redly  on  the  hearth,  and 


A   FLIGHT   BY  TWO  153 

I 

wondering  how  he  should  escape  with  this  girl  from 
Richmond.  He  had  said  confidently  that  he  should 
find  a  way  and  he  believed  he  would,  but  he  knew  of 
none. 

They  came  back  presently,  the  girl  wrapped  to  the 
eyes  in  a  heavy  black  cloak. 

"It  is  Miss  Grayson's,"  she  said  with  a  touch  of 
humour.  "  She  has  consented  to  take  my  brown  one 
in  its  place." 

"Overshoes?"  said  Prescott,  interrogatively. 

Her  feet  peeped  from  beneath  her  dress. 

"Two  pairs,"  she  replied.  "I  have  on  both 
Charlotte's  and  my  own." 

"Gloves?" 

She  held  out  her  hands  enclosed  in  the  thickest 
mittens. 

"You  will  do,"  said  Prescott;  "and  now  is  the 
time  for  us  to  go." 

He  turned  his  back  while  these  two  women,  tried 
by  so  many  dangers,  wished  each  other  farewell. 
There  were  no  tears,  no  vehement  protestations; 
just  a  silent,  clinging  embrace,  a  few  words  spoken 
low,  and  then  the  parting.  Prescott 's  own  eyes  were 
moist.  There  must  be  unusual  qualities  in  these  two 
women  to  inspire  so  deep  an  attachment,  so  much 
capacity  for  sacrifice. 

He  opened  the  door  an  inch  or  so  and,  looking  out, 
beheld  a  city  silent  and  dark,  like  a  city  of  the  dead. 

"Come,"  he  said,  and  the  two  went  out  into  the 
silence  and  cold  desolation.  He  glanced  back  and 
saw  the  door  yet  open  a  few  inches.  Then  it  closed 
and  the  brave  old  maid  was  left  alone. 

The  girl  shivered  at  the  first  touch  of  the  night  and 
Prescott  asked  anxiously  if  she  found  the  cold  too 
great. 

"Only  for  a  moment,"  she  replied.  "Which  way 
shall  we  go?" 

He  started  at  the  question,  not  yet  having  chosen 
a  course,  and  replied  in  haste: 

"We  must  reach  the  Baltimore  road;  it  is  not  so 
far  to  the  Northern  pickets,  and  when  we  approach 
them  I  can  leave  you." 


154  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

*'And  you?*'  she  said,  "What  is  to  become  of 
you?" 

All  save  her  eyes  was  hidden  by  the  dark  cloak, 
but  she  looked  up  and  he  saw  there  a  light  like  that 
which  had  shone  when  she  came  forth  to  meet  him 
in  the  house 

"I?"  he  replied  lightly.  "Don't  worry  about  me. 
I  shall  return  to  Richmond  and  then  help  my  army 
to  fight  and  beat  your  army.  Really  General  Lee 
couldn't  spare  me.  you  know.  Come!" 

They  stole  forward,  two  shadows  in  the  deeper 
shadow,  the  dry  snow  rustling  like  paper  under  their 
feet.  From  some  far  point  came  the  faint  cry  of  a 
sentinel,  announcing  to  a  sleepy  world  that  all  was 
well,  and  after  that  the  silence  hung  heavily  as  ever 
over  the  city  The  cold  was  not  unpleasant  to  either 
of  them,  muffled  as  they  were  in  heavy  clothing,  for 
it  imparted  briskness  and  vigour  to  their  strong  young 
bodies,  and  they  went  on  at  a  swift  pace  through 
the  densest  part  of  the  city,  into  the  thinning  suburbs 
and  then  toward  the  fields  and  open  spaces  which  lay 
on  the  nearer  side  of  the  earthworks.  Not  a  human 
being  did  they  see  not  a  dog  barked  at  them  as  they 
passed,  scarcely  a  light  showed  in  a  window;  all 
around  them  the  city  lay  in  a  lethargy  beneath  its  icy 
covering. 

Involuntarily  the  girl,  oppressed  by  the  loneliness 
which  had  taken  on  a  certain  weird  quality,  walked 
closer  to  Prescott,  and  he  could  faintly  hear  her 
breathing  as  she  fled  with  him,  step  for  step. 

"The  Baltimore  road  lies  there,"  he  said,  "and 
yonder  are  earthworks.  See!  Where  the  faint 
light  is  twinkling !  that  low  line  is  what  we  have 
to  pass." 

They  heard  the  creaking  of  wagons  and  the  sound 
of  voices  as  of  men  speaking  to  horses,  and  stopped 
to  listen.  Then  they  beheld  lights  nearer  by  on  the 
left. 

"Stay  here  a  moment  and  I'll  see  what  it  is,"  said 
Prescott. 

"Oh,  don't  leave  me!"  she  cried  with  a  sudden 
tremour. 


A   FLIGHT  BY   TWO  155 

"It  is  only  for  a  moment,"  he  replied,  glad  to  hear 
that  sudden  tremour  in  her  voice. 

Turning  aside  he  found  close  at  hand  an  obscure 
tavern,  and  beside  it  at  least  a  dozen  wagons,  the 
horses  hitched  as  if  ready  for  a  journey.  He  guessed 
immediately  that  these  were  the  wagons  of  farmers 
who  had  been  selling  provisions  in  the  city.  The 
owners  were  inside  taking  something  to  warm  them 
up  for  the  home  journey  and  the  horses  outside  were 
stamping  their  feet  with  the  same  purpose. 

"  Not  likely  to  bother  us,"  was  Prescott's  unspoken 
comment  as  he  returned  to  the  girl  who  stood  motion- 
less in  the  snow  awaiting  him.  "It  is  nothing,"  he 
said.  "We  must  go  forward  now,  watch  our  chance 
and  slip  through  the  earthworks." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  went  on  with  him,  showing 
an  infinite  trust  that  appealed  to  every  fiber  of  his 
being.  The  chill  of  the  wintry  night  had  been  driven 
away  by  vigourous  exercise,  but  its  tonic  effect 
remained  with  both,  and  now  their  courage  began  to 
rise  as  they  approached  the  first  barrier.  It  seemed 
to  them  that  they  could  not  fail  on  such  a  night. 

"There  is  an  interval  yonder  between  two  of  the 
earthworks,"  said  Prescott.  "I'm  sure  we  can  pass 
them." 

Silently  they  approached  the  opening.  The  moon 
glimmered  but  faintly  across  the  white  snow,  and  no 
sign  of  life  came  from  the  earthworks.  But  as  they 
drew  near  a  sentinel,  gun  on  shoulder,  appeared 
walking  back  and  forth,  and  beyond  where  his  post 
ended  was  another  soldier,  likewise  walking  back  and 
forth,  gun  on  shoulder. 

"  It  is  evident  that  our  way  doesn't  lie  there,"  said 
Prescott,  turning  back  quickly  lest  the  sentinel  should 
see  them  and  demand  an  explanation. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  she  asked,  seeming  now  to 
trust  to  him  implicitly. 

"  Why,  try  another  place,"  he  replied  lightly.  "  If 
at  first  you  don't  succeed,  try,  try  again." 

They  tried  again  and  failed  as  before.  The 
sentinels  of  the  Confederacy  everywhere  were 
watchful,  despite  the  wintry  night  and  the  little 


156  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

apparent  need  of  precaution.  Yet  the  two  were 
drawn  closer  and  closer  together  by  the  community 
of  hope  and  despair,  and  when  at  last  they  drifted 
back  toward  the  tavern  and  the  wagons  Prescott  felt 
as  if  he,  too,  were  seeking  to  escape  from  Richmond 
to  join  the  Army  of  the  North.  He  even  found  it 
in  his  heart  to  condemn  the  vigilance  of  his  own. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  said  the  girl,  as  they  stood 
watching  the  light  in  the  tavern  window,  "  I  insist 
that  you  leave  me  here.  I  wish  to  make  an  attempt 
alone.  Why  should  you  risk  yourself?" 

"Even  if  you  passed  the  fortifications,"  he  replied, 
"you  would  perish  in  the  frozen  hills  beyond.  Do 
you  think  I  have  come  so  far  to  turn  back  now?" 

Staring  at  the  wagons  and  the  stamping  horses,  he 
noticed  one  of  the  farmers  come  out  of  the  tavern. 
His  appearance  gave  Prescott  a  happy  inspiration. 

"Stay  here  a  moment  or  two,  Miss  Catherwood," 
he  said.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  that  man." 

She  obeyed  without  a  word  of  protest,  and  he 
approached  the  farmer,  who  lurched  toward  one  of 
the  wagons.  Prescott  had  marked  this  suggestive 
lurch,  and  it  gave  him  an  idea. 

The  farmer,  heated  by  many  warm  drinks,  was 
fumbling  with  the  gear  of  his  horses  when  Prescott 
approached,  and  to  his  muddled  eyes  the  stranger 
seemed  at  least  a  general,  looming  very  stiff  and  very 
tall  with  his  great  military  cloak  drawn  threateningly 
about  him. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Prescott  sternly. 

The  severe  tone  made  a  deep  and  proper  impression 
on  the  intoxicated  gentleman's  agricultural  mind,  so 
he  replied  promptly,  though  with  a  stutter: 

"Elias  Gardner." 

"Where  are  you  from,  Elias,  and  what  are  you 
doing  here?" 

The  military  discipline  about  Richmond  was  very 
strict,  and  the  farmer,  anxious  to  show  his  good 
standing,  replied  with  equal  promptness: 

"  From  Wellsville.  I've  been  selling  a  load  of  farm 
truck  in  Richmond.  Oh,  I've  got  my  pass  right 
enough,  Colonel." 


A   FLIGHT   BY  TWO  157 

He  took  his  pass  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to 
the  man  who  from  the  dignity  and  severity  of  his 
manner  might  be  a  general  officer.  Prescott  looking 
at  it  felt  a  thrill  of  joy,  but  there  was  no  change  in  the 
sternness  of  his  tone  when  he  addressed  the  farmer 
again. 

"Why,  this  pass,"  he  said,  "is  made  out  to  Elias 
Gardner  and  wife.  You  said  nothing  about  your 
wife." 

The  farmer  was  somewhat  confused,  and  explained 
hastily  that  his  wife  was  going  to  stay  awhile  in 
Richmond  with  relatives,  while  he  went  home  alone. 
In  three  or  four  days  he  would  be  back  with  another 
load  of  provisions  and  then  he  could  get  her.  The 
face  of  the  stern  officer  gradually  relaxed  and  he 
accused  the  good  Mr.  Gardner  of  taking  advantage 
of  his  wife's  absence  to  enjoy  himself.  Prescott 
nodded  his  head  slightly  toward  the  tavern,  and  the 
farmer,  taking  courage  from  the  jocular  contraction 
of  the  Colonel's  left  eye,  did  not  resent  the  insinuation. 
On  the  contrary,  he  enjoyed  it,  feeling  that  he  was  a 
devil  of  a  fellow,  and  significantly  tapped  the  left 
pocket  of  his  coat,  which  gave  forth  a  ring  as  of  glass. 

"The  quality  of  yours  is  bad,"  said  Prescott. 
"  Here,  try  mine;  it's  like  velvet  to  the  throat,  a  tonic 
to  the  stomach,  and  it  means  sweet  sleep  to-morrow." 

Drawing  from  his  pocket  his  own  well-filled  flask, 
with  which  from  prudential  motives  he  had  provided 
himself  before  undertaking  his  journey,  he  handed 
it  to  Mr.  Gardner  of  Wellsville  and  made  him  drink 
deep  and  long. 

When  the  farmer  finished  he  sighed  deeply,  and 
words  of  appreciation  and  gratitude  flowed  from  his 
tongue. 

"  Bah,  man  !"  said  Prescott,  "you  cannot  drink  at 
all.  You  do  not  get  the  real  taste  of  it  with  one  little 
sip  like  that  on  such  a  cold  night  as  this.  Here,  drink 
it  down — a  real  drink,  this  time.  Are  you  a  girl  to 
refuse  such  liquor?" 

The  last  taunt  struck  home,  and  Mr.  Gardner  of 
Wellsville,  making  a  mighty  suspiration,  drank  so 
long  and  deep  that  the  world  wavered  when  he  handed 


i58  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

the  flask  back  to  Prescott,  and  .a  most  generous  fire 
leaped  up  and  sparkled  in  his  veins.  But  when  he 
undertook  to  step  forward  the  treacherous  earth  slid 
from  under  his  feet,  and  it  was  only  the  arm  of  the 
friendly  officer  that  kept  him  from  falling.  He  tried 
to  reach  his  wagon,  but  it  unkindly  moved  off  into 
space. 

Prescott  helped  him  to  the  wagon  and  then  into 
it.  "How  my  head  goes  round!"  murmured  the 
poor  farmer. 

"Another  taste  of  this  will  put  you  all  right,"  said 
Prescott,  and  he  forced  the  neck  of  his  flask  into 
Elias  Gardner's  mouth.  Elias  drank  deeply,  either 
because  he  wanted  to  or  because  he  could  not  help 
himself,  and  closing  his  eyes  dropped  off  to  slumber 
as  peacefully  as  a  tired  child. 

Prescott  laid  Mr.  Gardner  down  in  the  bed  of  his 
own  wagon,  and  then  this  chivalrous  Confederate 
officer  picked  a  man's  pocket — deliberately  and  with 
malice  aforethought.  But  he  did  not  take  much — 
only  a  piece  of  paper  with  a  little  writing  on  it,  which 
he  put  in  the  pocket  of  his  waistcoat.  Moreover,  as  a 
sort  of  compensation  he  pulled  off  the  man's  overcoat 
— which  was  a  poor  one — and  putting  it  on  his  own 
shoulders,  wrapped  his  heavy  military  cloak  around 
the  prostrate  farmer.  Then  he  stretched  him  out 
in  a  comfortable  place  in  the  wagon  bed  and  heaped 
empty  sacks  above  him  until  Elias  was  as  cozy  as  if 
he  had  been  in  his  own  bed  at  home. 

Having  placed  empty  chicken  crates  on  either  side 
of  Elias  and  others  across  the  top ,  to  form  a  sort  of  roof 
beneath  which  the  man  still  slept  sweetly,  though 
invisibly,  Prescott  contemplated  his  work  for  a 
moment  with  deep  satisfaction.  Then  he  summoned 
the  girl,  and  the  two,  mounting  the  seat,  drove  the 
impatient  horses  along  the  well-defined  road  through 
the  snow  towards  the  interval  between  the  earth- 
works. 

"  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  inform  you,  Miss  Cather- 
wood,  that  you're  not  Miss  Catherwood  at  all,"  said 
Prescott. 

A  faint  gleam  of  humour  flickered  in  her  eye. 


A   FLIGHT   BY  TWO  159 

"  And  who  am  I,  pray  ? "  she  asked. 

"  You  are  a  much  more  respectable  young  woman 
than  that  noted  Yankee  spy,"  replied  Prescott  in  a 
light  tone.  "  You  are  Mrs.  Elias  Gardner,  the  wife  of  a 
most  staid  and  worthy  farmer,  of  strong  Southern 
proclivities,  living  twenty  miles  out  on  the  Baltimore 
road." 

"And  who  are  you?"  she  asked,  the  flicker  of 
humour  reappearing  in  her  eye. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Elias  Gardner,  your  husband,  and,  as  I 
have  just  said,  a  most  honest  and  worthy  man,  but, 
unfortunately,  somewhat  "addicted  to  the  use  of  strong 
liquors,  especially  on  a  night  as  cold  as  this." 

If  Prescott 's  attention  had  not  been  demanded  then 
by  the  horses  he  would  have  seen  a  rosy  glow  appear 
on  her  face.  But  it  passed  in  a  moment,  and  she 
remained  silent. 

Then  he  told  her  of  the  whole  lucky  chance,  his  use 
of  it,  and  how  the  way  now  lay  clear  before  them. 

"We  shall  take  Mr.  Gardner  back  home,"  he  said, 
"  and  save  him  the  trouble  of  driving.  It  will  be  one 
of  the  easiest  and  most  comfortable  journeys  that  he 
ever  took,  and  not  a  particle  of  harm  will  come  to 
him  from  it." 

"But  you?  How  will  you  get  back  into  Rich- 
mond?" 

She  looked  at  him  anxiously  as  she  spoke. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  want  to  return?" 

"  I  am  speaking  seriously." 

"  I  am  sure  it  will  not  be  a  difficult  matter,"  he  said. 
"A  man  alone  can  pass  the  fortifications  of  any  city 
without  much  trouble.  It  is  not  a  matter  that  I 
worry  about  at  all.  But  please  remember  that  you 
are  Mrs.  Elias  Gardner,  my  wife,  as  questions  may  be 
asked  of  you  before  this  night's  journey  ends." 

The  flush  stole  over  her  cheeks  again,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

Prescott  picked  up  the  long  whip,  called  a  "black 
snake,"  which  was  lying  on  the  seat  and  cracked  it 
over  the  horses,  a  fine,  sturdy  pair,  as  he  had  noticed 
already.  They  stepped  briskly  along,  as  if  anxious 
to  warm  themselves  after  their  long  wait  in  the  cold, 


160  BEFORE  THE  DAWN 

and  Prescott,  who  was  a  good  driver,  felt  the  glorious 
sensation  of  triumph  over  difficulties  glowing  within 
him. 

"Ho,  for  a  fine  ride,  Mrs.  Gardner!"  he  said  gaily 
to  the  girl. 

His  high  spirits  were  infectious  and  she  smiled  back 
at  him. 

"With  such  an  accomplished  driver  holding  the 
lines,  and  so  fine  a  chariot  as  this,  it  ought  to  be, " 
she  replied. 

The  horses  blew  the  steam  from  their  nostrils,  the 
dry  snow  crunched  under  their  heels,  and  the  real 
Elias  Gardner  slumbered  peacefully  under  his  own 
chicken  crates  as  they  approached  the  earthworks. 

As  before,  when  they  had  walked  instead  of  coming 
in  their  own  private  carriage,  they  soon  saw  the 
sentinel,  half  frozen  but  vigilant,  and  he  promptly 
halted  them.  Prescott  produced  at  once  the  pass 
that  he  had  picked  from  the  pocket  of  the  unconscious 
Elias,  and  the  sentinel  called  the  officer  of  the  guard, 
who  appeared  holding  a  dim  lantern  and  yawning 
mightily. 

Now  this  officer  of  the  guard  was  none  other  than 
Thomas  Talbot,  Esquire,  himself,  as  large  as  life  but 
uncommonly  sleepy,  and  anxious  to  have  done  with 
his  task.  Prescott  was  startled  by  his  friend's 
appearance  there  at  such  a  critical  moment,  but  he 
remembered  that  the  night  was  dark  and  he  was 
heavily  muffled. 

Talbot  looked  at  the  pass,  expressed  his  satisfaction 
and  handed  it  back  to  Prescott.  who  replaced  it  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket  with  ostentatious  care. 

"Cold  night  for  a  long  drive,"  said  Talbot,  wishing 
to  be  friendly. 

Prescott  nodded  but  did  not  speak. 

"Especially  for  a  lady,"  added  Talbot  gallantly. 

Miss  Catherwood  nodded  also,  and  with  muttered 
thanks  Prescott,  gathering  up  the  lines,  drove  on. 

"That  was  a  particular  friend  of  mine,"  he  said, 
when  they  were  beyond  the  hearing  of  the  outpost, 
"but  I  do  not  recall  a  time  when  the  sight  of  him  was 
more  unwelcome," 


A   FLIGHT   BY   TWO  161 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  he  was  less  troublesome  than 
friends  often  are. " 

"Now,  don't  forget  that  you  are  still  Mrs.  Elias 
Gardner  of  Wells ville,"  he  continued,  "as  there  are 
more  earthworks  and  outposts  to  pass. " 

"I  don't  think  that  fugitives  often  flee  from  a  city 
in  their  own  coach  and  four,"  she  said  with  that 
recurring  flicker  of  humour. 

"At  least  not  in  such  a  magnificent  chariot  as  ours, " 
he  said,  looking  around  at  the  lumbering  farm  wagon. 
The  feeling  of  exultation  was  growing  upon  him. 
When  he  had  resolved  to  find  a  way  he  did  not  see  one, 
but  behold,  he  had  found  it  and  it  was  better  than 
any  for  which  he  had  hoped.  They  were  not  merely 
walking  out  of  Richmond — they  were  driving  and 
in  comfort.  The  road  seemed  to  have  been  made 
smooth  and  pleasant  for  them. 

There  was  another  line  of  earthworks  and  an  out- 
post beyond,  but  the  pass  for  honest  Elias  Gardner  and 
wife  was  sufficient.  The  officer,  always  a  young  man 
and  disposed  to  be  friendly,  would  glance  at  it,  wave 
them  on  their  way  and  retreat  to  shelter  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

The  last  barrier  was  soon  crossed  and  they  were 
alone  in  the  white  desolation  of  the  snow-covered 
hills  and  forests.  Meanwhile,  the  real  Elias  Gardner 
slumbered  peacefully  in  his  own  wagon,  the  "world 
forgetting  and  by  the  world  forgot.  " 

"You  must  go  back,  Captain  Prescott,  as  I  am 
now  well  beyond  the  Confederate  lines  encircling 
Richmond  and  can  readily  care  for  myself,"  said 
Miss  Catherwood. 

But  he  refused  to  do  so,  asserting  with  indignation 
that  it  was  not  his  habit  to  leave  his  tasks  half  finished, 
and  he  could  not  abandon  her  in  such  a  frozen  waste 
as  that  lying  around  them.  She  protested  no  further, 
and  Prescott,  cracking  his  whip  over  the  horses, 
increased  their  speed,  but  before  long  they  settled 
into  an  easy  walk.  The  city  behind  sank  down  in  the 
darkness,  and  before  them  curved  the  white  world  of 
hills  and  forests,  white  even  under  its  covering  of  a 
somber  night. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LUCIA'S    FAREWELL 

Prescott  has  never  forgotten  that  night,  the  long 
ride,  the  relief  from  danger,  the  silent  woman  by  his 
side;  and  there  was  in  all  a  keen  enjoyment,  of  a 
kind  deeper  and  more  holy  than  he  had  ever  known 
before.  He  had  saved  a  woman,  a  woman  whom  he 
could  admire,  from  a  great  danger;  it  was  hers  rather 
than  his  own  that  appealed  to  him,  and  he  was  thank- 
ful. In  her  heart,  too,  was  a  devout  gratitude  and 
something  more. 

The  worthy  Elias  Gardner,  slumbering  so  peace- 
fully under  his  crates,  was  completely  forgotten,  and 
they  two  were  alone  with  the  universe.  The  clouds 
by  and  by  passed  away  and  the  heavens  shone  blue 
and  cold;  a  good  moon  came  out,  and  the  white  hills 
and  forests,  touched  by  it,  flashed  now  and  then  with 
the  gleam  of  silver.  All  the  world  was  at  peace; 
there  was  no  sign  of  war  in  the  night  nor  in  those 
snowy  solitudes.  Before  them  stretched  the  road, 
indicated  by  a  long  line  of  wheel  tracks  in  the  snow, 
and  behind  them  was  nothing.  Prescott,  by  and  by, 
let  the  lines  drop  on  the  edge  of  the  wagon-bed,  and 
the  horses  chose  .their  own  way,  following  with  mere 
instinct  the  better  path. 

He  began  now  to  see  himself  as  he  was,  to  under- 
stand the  impulse  that  had  driven  him  on.  Here  by 
his  side,  her  warm  breath  almost  on  his  face,  was  the 
girl  he  had  saved,  but  he  took  no  advantage  of  time 
and  place,  infringing  in  no  degree  upon  the  respect 
due  to  every  woman.  He  had  come  even  this  night 
believing  her  a  spy,  but  now  he  held  her  as  something 
holy. 

She  spoke  by  and  by  of  the  gratitude  she  owed  him, 
not  in  many  words,  but  strong  ones,  showing  how 
162 


LUCIA'S   FAREWELL  163 

deeply  she  felt  all  she  said,  and  he  did  not  seek  to 
silence  her,  knowing  the  relief  it  would  give  her  to 
speak. 

Presently  she  told  him  of  herself.  She  came  from 
that  borderland  between  North  and  South  which  is 
of  both  though  not  wholly  of  either,  but  her  sympa- 
thies from  the  first  had  turned  to  the  North,  not  so 
much  through  personal  feeling,  but  because  of  a 
belief  that  it  would  be  better  for  the  North  to  triumph. 
The  armies  had  come,  her  uncle  with  whom  she  had 
lived  had  fallen  in  battle,  and  their  home  was 
destroyed,  by  which  army  she  did  not  know.  Then 
she  turned  involuntarily  to  her  nearest  relative,  Miss 
Grayson,  in  whose  home  she  knew  she  would  receive 
protection,  and  who,  she  knew,  too,  would  share  her 
sympathies.  So  she  had  come  to  Richmond. 

She  said  nothing  of  the  accusation,  the  affair  of  the 
papers,  and  Prescott  longed  to  ask  her  again  if  she 
were  guilty,  and  to  hear  her  say  that  she  was  not. 
He  was  not  willing  to  believe  her  a  spy,  that  she  could 
ever  stoop  to  such  an  act ;  and  here  in  the  darkness 
with  her  by  his  side,  with  only  purity  and  truth  in 
her  eyes,  he  could  not  believe  her  one.  But  when 
she  was  away  he  knew  that  his  doubts  would  return. 
Then  he  would  ask  himself  if  he  had  not  been  tricked 
and  used  by  a  woman  as  beautiful  and  clever  as  she 
was  ruthless.  Now  he  saw  only  her  beauty  and  what 
seemed  to  him  the  truth  of  her  eyes,  and  he  swore  again 
silently  and  for  the  twentieth  time  that  he  would  not 
leave  her  until  he  saw  her  safe  within  the  Northern 
lines.  So  little  thought  he  then  of  his  own  risks,  and 
so  willing  a  traitor  was  he,  for  a  moment,  and  for  the 
sake  of  one  woman's  eyes,  to  the  cause  that  he  served. 
But  a  traitor  only  in  seeming,  and  not  in  reality,  he 
would  have  said  of  himself  with  truth. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  now?"  asked  Prescott 
at  last. 

"There  is  much  in  the  trail  of  our  army  that  I  can 
do,"  she  said.  "There  will  be  many  wounded  soon." 

"Yes,  when  the  snow  goes,"  said  Prescott.  "Doesn't 
it  seem  strange  that  the  dead  cold  of  winter  alone 
should  mean  peace  nowadays?" 


164  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Both  spoke  solemnly.  For  the  time  the  thought 
of  war  inspired  Prescott  with  the  most  poignant 
repulsion,  since  he  was  taking  this  girl  to  the  army 
which  he  expected  to  fight. 

"There  is  one  question  which  I  should  like  to  ask 
you |"  he  said  after  awhile. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Where  were  you  hidden  that  day  my  friend 
Talbot  searched  for  you  and  I  looked  on  ?" 

She  glanced  quickly  up  into  his  face,  and  her  lips 
curved  in  the  slightest  smile.  There  was,  too,  a  faint 
twinkle  in  her  eye. 

"You  have  asked  me  for  the  second  time  the  one 
question  that  I  cannot  answer,"  she  replied.  "I  am 
sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Captain  Prescott,  but  ask 
me  anything  else  and  I  think  I  can  promise  a  reply. 
This  one  is  a  secret  not  mine  to  tell." 

Silence  fell  once  more  over  them  and  the  world 
about  them.  There  was  no  noise  save  the  soft  crush 
of  the  horses'  feet  in  the  snow  and  the  crunch  of  the 
wagon  wheels.  The  silvery  glow  of  the  moon  still 
fell  across  the  hills,  and  the  trees  stood  motionless 
like  white  but  kindly  sentinels. 

Prescott  by  and  by  took  his  flask  from  his  pocket. 

"Drink  some  of  this,"  he  said;  "you  must.  The 
cold  is  insidious  and  you  should  fend  it  off." 

So  urged  she  drank  a  little,  and  then  Prescott, 
stopping  the  horses,  climbed  back  in  the  wagon-bed. 

"It  would  be  strange,"  he  said,  "if  our  good  farmer 
prepared  for  a  twenty-mile  drive  without  taking  along 
something  to  eat." 

"And  please  see  that  he  is  comfortable,"  she  said. 
"I  know  these  are  war  times,  but  we  are  treating  him 
hardly." 

Prescott  laughed. 

"You  shouldn't  feel  any  remorse,"  he  said.  "Our 
worthy  Elias  was  never  more  snug  in  his  life.  He's 
still  sleeping  as  sweetly  as  a  baby,  and  is  as  warm  as  a 
rabbit  in  its  nest.  Ah,  here  we  are !  Cold  ham, 
light  bread,  and  cold  boiled  eggs.  I'll  requisition 
them,  but  I'll  pay  him  for  them.  It's  a  pity  we  can't 
feed  the  horses,  too." 


LUCIA'S   FAREWELL  165 

He  took  a  coin  from  his  pocket  and  thrust  it  into 
that  of  the  sleeping  farmer.  Then  he  spread  the 
food  upon  the  seat  of  the  wagon,  and  the  two  ate 
with  hearty  appetites  due  to  the  cold,  their  exertions 
and  the  freedom  from  apprehension. 

Prescott  had  often  eaten  of  more  luxurious  fare, 
but  none  that  he  enjoyed  more  than  that  frugal 
repast,  in  a  lonely  wagon  on  a  cold  and  dark  winter 
morning.  Thrilled  with  a  strange  exhilaration,  he 
jested  and  found  entertainment  in  everything,  and  the 
girl  beside  him  began  to  share  his  high  spirits,  though 
she  said  little,  but  laughed  often  at  his  speeches. 
Prescott  never  before  had  seen  in  her  so  much  of 
feminine  gentleness,  and  it  appealed  to  him,  knowing 
how  strong  and  masculine  her  character  could  be  at 
times.  Now  she  left  the  initiative  wholly  to  him,  as 
if  she  had  put  herself  in  his  hands  and  trusted  him 
fully,  obeying  him,  too,  with  a  sweet  humility  that 
stirred  the  deeps  of  his  nature. 

At  last  they  finished  the  crumbs  of  the  farmer's 
food  and  Prescott  regretfully  drove  on. 

"The  horses  have  had  a  good  rest,  too,"  he  said, 
"and  I've  no  doubt  they  needed  it." 

The  character  of  the  night  did  not  change,  still  the 
same  splendid  white  silence,  and  just  they  two  alone 
in  the  world. 

"We  must  be  at  least  twenty  miles  from  Richmond," 
said  the  girl. 

"I  haven't  measured  the  time,"  Prescott  replied, 
"but  it's  an  easy  progress.  I  am  quite  sure  that  if 
we  keep  on  going  long  enough  we'll  arrive  somewhere 
at  last." 

"I  think  it  likely,"  she  said,  smiling.  "I  wonder 
that  we  don't  see  any  houses." 

"Virginia  isn't  the  most  densely  peopled  country 
in  the  world,  and  we  are  coming  to  a  pretty  sterile 
region  that  won't  support  much  life  in  the  best  of 
times." 

"Are  we  on  doubtful  ground?" 

"That  or  very  near  it." 

They  passed  at  least  one  or  two  houses  by  the 
roadside,  but  they  were  lone  and  dark.  No  lean 


1 66  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Virginia  dogs  howled  at  them  and  the  solitary  and 
desolate  character  of  the  country  did  not  abate. 

"Are  you  cold?"  asked  Prescott. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  replied.  "1  have  never  in  my  life 
taken  an  easier  journey.  It  seems  that  fortune  has 
been  with  us." 

"Fortune  favours  the  good  or  ought  to  do  so." 

"How  long  do  you  think  it  is  until  daylight  ?" 

"I  don't  know;  an  hour,  I  suppose;  why  bother 
about  it?" 

Certainly  Prescott  was  not  troubling  his  head  by 
trying  to  determine  the  exact  distance  to  daylight, 
but  he  began  to  think  for  the  first  time  of  his  journey's 
end.  He  must  leave  Miss  Catherwood  somewhere 
in  comparative  safety,  and  he  must  get  back  to 
Richmond,  his  absence  unnoted.  These  were  prob- 
lems which  might  well  become  vexing,  and  the  exalta- 
tion of  the  moment  could  not  prevent  their  recurrence. 
He  stopped  the  wagon  and  took  a  look  at  the  worthy 
Elias,  who  was  slumbering  as  peacefully  as  ever. 
"A  sound  conscience  makes  a  sound  sleeper,"  he 
quoted,  and  then  he  inspected  the  country. 

It  was  a  little  wilderness  of  hills  and  scrub  forest, 
all  lying  under  the  deep  snow,  and  without  sign  of 
either  human  or  animal  life. 

"There  is  nothing  to  do  but  drive  on,"  he  said. 
"If  I  only  dared  to  wake  our  friend,  the  farmer,  we 
might  find  out  from  him  which  way  the  nearest 
Northern  pickets  lie." 

"You  should  let  me  go  now,  Captain  Prescott,  I  beg 
you  again." 

"Abandon  you  in  this  snowy  waste  !  I  claim  to  be 
an  American  gentleman,  Miss  Catherwood.  But  if 
we  don't  strike  a  promising  lead  soon  I  shall  waken 
our  friend  Elias,  and  he  will  have  to  point  a  way, 
whether  he  will  or  no." 

But  that  threat  was  saved  as  a  last  resort,  and  he 
drove  quietly  around  the  curve  of  a  hill.  When  they 
reached  the  other  side,  there  was  the  rapid  crunch  of 
hoofs  in  the  snow,  an  abrupt  command  to  halt,  and 
they  found  themselves  surrounded  by  a  dozen  troopers. 
Prescott  recognized  the  faded  blue  uniform  and  knew 


LUCIA'S   FAREWELL  167 

at  once  that  he  was  in  the  midst  of  Yankee  horsemen. 
The  girl  beside  him  gave  one  start  at  the  sudden 
apparition  and  then  became  calm  and  impassive. 

"Who  are  you?':  asked  the  leader  of  the  horsemen, 
a  lieutenant. 

"Elias  Gardner  of  Wellsville,"  replied  Prescott  in  a 
drawling,  rural  voice. 

"That  tells  nothing,"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"It's  my  name,  anyhow,"  replied  Prescott  coolly, 
"and  if  you  don't  believe  it,  here's  a  pass  they  gave 
me  when  I  went  into  Richmond  with  a  load  of 
produce." 

The  Lieutenant  read  the  paper  by  the  moonlight 
and  then  handed  it  back  to  its  temporary  owner. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said;  "but  I  want  to  know,  Mr. 
Elias  Gardner  and  Mrs.  Elias  Gardner,  what  you 
mean  by  feeding  the. enemy." 

"I'd  sell  to  you  at  the  same  price,"  replied  Prescott. 

Some  of  the  troopers  were  looking  at  the  barrels  and 
crates  in  the  wagons  to  see  if  they  were  really  empty, 
and  Prescott  was  in  dread  lest  they  come  upon  the 
sleeping  farmer;  but  they  desisted  soon,  satisfied  that 
there  was  nothing  left  to  eat. 

The  Lieutenant  cocked  a  shrewd  eye  on  Prescott. 

"So  you've  been  in  Richmond,  Mr.  Farmer;  how 
long  were  you  there  ?"  he  asked. 

"Only  a  day." 

"Don't  you  think  it  funny,  Mr.  Farmer,  that  you 
should  go  so  easily  into  a  town  that  armies  of  a 
hundred  thousand  men  have  been  trying  for  more 
than  two  years  to  enter  and  have  failed  ?" 

"Maybe  I  showed  better  judgment,"  Prescott 
replied,  unable  to  restrain  a  gibe. 

The  Lieutenant  laughed. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  he  said;  "but  we'll  have 
Grant  soon.  Now,  Mr.  Gardner,  you've  been  in 
Richmond,  and  I've  no  doubt  you  used  your  eyes 
while  you  were  there,  for  you  look  to  me  like  a  keen, 
observant  man.  I  suspect  that  you  could  tell  some 
interesting  things  about  their  earthworks,  forts  and  so 
forth." 

Prescott  held  up  his  hands  in  mock  consternation. 


i68  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

"I  ain't  no  soldier,"  he  replied  in  his  drawling  tone. 
"I  wouldn't  know  a  fort  if  1  saw  one,  and  1  never  get 
near  such  things  if  I  know  it." 

"Then  perhaps  Mrs.  Gardner  took  notice,"  con- 
tinued the  Lieutenant  in  a  wheedling  tone.  ''Women 
are  always  observant." 

Miss  Catherwood  shook  her  head. 

"See  here,  you  two,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  "if  you'll 
only  tell  me  about  those  fortifications  I'll  pay  you 
more  than  you  got  for  that  load  of  produce." 

"We  don't  know  anything,"  said  Prescott;  "ain't 
sure  there  are  any  fortifications  at  all." 

"Confound  it !"  exclaimed  the  Lieutenant  in  a 
vexed  tone,  "a  Northern  man  can  never  get  anything 
out  of  these  Virginia  farmers  !" 

Prescott  stared  at  him  and  grinned  a  little. 

"Go  on !"  said  the  Lieutenant,  waving  his  hand  in 
anger.  "There's  a  camp  of  ours  a  mile  farther  ahead. 
They'll  stop  you,  and  I  only  hope  they'll  get  as  much 
out  of  you  as  I  have." 

Prescott  gladly  obeyed  the  command  and  the 
Northern  horsemen  galloped  off,  their  hoof -beats 
making  little  noise  in  the  snow.  But  as  he  drove  on 
he  turned  his  head  slightly  and  watched  them  until 
they  were  out  of  sight.  When  he  was  sure  they  were 
far  away  he  stopped  his  own  horses. 

"Will  you  wait  here  a  moment  in  the  wagon,  Miss 
Catherwood,  until  I  go  to  the  top  of  the  hill?"  he 
asked. 

She  nodded,  and  springing  out,  Prescott  ran  to  the 
crest.  There  looking  over  into  the  valley,  he  saw  the 
camp  of  which  the  Lieutenant  had  spoken,  a  cluster  of 
tents  and  a  ring  of  smoking  fires  with  horses  tethered 
beyond,  the  brief  stopping  place  of  perhaps  five 
hundred  men,  as  Prescott,  with  a  practised  eye,  could 
quickly  tell. 

He  saw  now  the  end  of  the  difficulty,  but  he  did  not 
rejoice  as  he  had  hoped. 

"Beyond  this  hill  in  the  valley,  and  within  plain 
view  from  the  crest,  is  the  camp  of  your  friends* 
Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said.  "Our  journey  is  over. 
We  need  not  take  the  wagon  any  farther,  as  it  belongs 


LUCIA'S   FAREWELL  169 

to  our  sleeping  friend,  the  farmer,  but  you  can  go  on 
now  to  this  Northern  detachment — a  raiding  party,  I 
presume,  but  sure  to  treat  you  well.  I  thank  God 
that  the  time  is  not  yet  when  a  woman  is  not  safe  in 
the  camp  of  either  North  or  South.  Come  !" 

She  dismounted  from  the  wagon  and  slowly  they 
walked  together  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  Prescott 
pointed  to  the  valley,  where  the  fires  glowed  redly 
across  the  snow. 

"Here  I  leave  you,"  he  said. 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  the  glow  of  the  fires  below 
was  reflected  in  her  eyes. 

"Shall  we  ever  see  each  other  again?"  she  asked. 

"That  I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied. 

She  did  not  go  on  just  yet,  lingering  there  a  little. 

"Captain  Prescott, "she  asked,  "why  have  you  done 
so  much  for  me  ?" 

"Upon  my  soul  I  do  not  know,"  he  replied. 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  again,  and  he  saw  the 
red  blood  rising  in  her  cheeks.  Borne  away  by  a 
mighty  impulse,  he  bent  over  and  kissed  her,  but  she, 
uttering  a  little  cry,  ran  down  the  hill  toward  the 
Northern  camp. 

He  watched  her  until  he  saw  her  draw  near  the 
fires  and  men  come-  forward  to  meet  her.  Then  he 
went  back  to  the  wagon  and  drove  it  into  a  side  path 
among  some  trees,  where  he  exchanged  outer  clothing 
again  with  the  farmer,  awakening  the  amazed  man 
directly  afterward  from  his  slumbers.  Prescott 
offered  no  explanations,  but  soothed  the  honest 
man's  natural  anger  with  a  gold  eagle,  and,  leaving 
him  there,  not  three  miles  from  his  home,  went  back 
on  foot. 

He  slipped  easily  into  Richmond  the  next  night,  and 
before  morning  was'  sleeping  soundly  in  his  own 
bed. 


CHAPTER    XIV 
PRESCOTT'S  ORDEAL 

Prescott  was  awakened  from  his  sleep  by  his 
mother,  who  came  to  him  in  suppressed  anxiety, 
telling  him  that  a  soldier  was  in  the  outer  room  with 
a  message  demanding  his  instant  presence  at  head- 
quarters. At  once  there  flitted  through  his  mind  a 
dream  of  that  long  night,  now1  passed,  the  flight 
together,  the  ride,  the  warm  and  luminous  presence 
beside  him  and  the  last  sight  of  her  as  she  passed  over 
the  hill  to  the  fires  that  burned  in  the  Northern  camp. 
A  dream  it  was,  vague  and  misty  as  the  darkness 
through  which  they  had  passed,  but  it  left  a  delight, 
vague  and  misty  like  itself,  that  refused  to  be  dis- 
pelled by  the  belief  that  this  message  was  from 
Mr.  Sefton,  who  intended  to  strike  where  his  armour 
was  weakest. 

With  the  power  of  repression  inherited  from  his 
Puritan  mother  he  hid  from  her  pleasure  anfl  appre- 
hension alike,  saying: 

"Some  garrison  duty,  mother.  You  know  in  such 
a  time  of  war  I  can't  expect  to  live  here  forever  in  ease 
and  luxury." 

The  letter  handed  to  him  by  the  messenger,  an 
impassive  Confederate  soldier  in  butternut  gray,  was 
from  the  commandant  of  the  forces  in  Richmond, 
ordering  him  to  report  to  Mr.  Sefton  for  instructions. 
Here  were  all  his  apprehensions  justified.  The 
search  had  been  made,  the  soldiers  had  gone  to  the 
cottage  of  Miss  Grayson,  the  girl  was  not  there,  and 
the  Secretary  now  turned  to  him,  Robert  Prescott, 
as  if  he  were  her  custodian,  demanding  her,  or  deter- 
mined to  know  what  he  had  done  with  her.  Well, 
his  own  position  was  uncertain,  but  she  at  least  was 
safe — far  beyond  the  lines  of  Richmond,  now  with  her 
170 


PRESCOTT  S   ORDEAL  171 

own  people,  and  neither  the  hand  of  Sefton  nor  of  any 
other  could  touch  her.  That  thought  shed  a  pleasant 
glow,  all  the  more  grateful  because  it  was  he  who 
had  helped  her.  But  toward  the  Secretary  he  felt 
only  defiance. 

As  he  went  forth  to  obey  the  summons  the  city  was 
bright,  all  white  and  silver  and  gold  in  its  sheet  of  ice, 
with  a  wintry  but  golden  sun  above ;  but  something 
was  missing  from  Richmond,  nevertheless.  It  sud- 
denly occurred  to  him  that  Miss  Grayson  must  be 
very  lonely  in  her  bleak  little  cottage. 

He  went  undisturbed  by  guards  to  the  Secretary's 
room — the  Confederate  Government  was  never  imme- 
diately surrounded  with  bayonets — and  knocked  upon 
the  door.  A  complete  absence  of  state  and  formality 
prevailed. 

The  Secretary  was  not  alone,  and  Prescott  was  not 
surprised.  The  President  of  the  Confederacy  himself 
sat  near  the  window,  and  just  beyond  him  was  Wood, 
in  a  great  armchair,  looking  bored.  There  were 
present,  too,  General  Winder,  the  commander  of 
the  forces  in  the  city,  another  General  or  two  and 
members  of  the  Cabinet. 

"An  inquisition,"  thought  Prescott.  "This  dis- 
appointed Secretary  would  ruin  me." 

The  saving  thought  occurred  to  him  that  if  he  had 
known  of  Miss  Catherwood's  presence  in  Richmond 
Mr.  Sefton  also  had  known  of  it.  The  wily  Secretary 
must  have  in  view  some  other  purpose  than  to 
betray  him,  when  by  so  doing  he  would  also  betray 
himself.  Prescott  gathered  courage,  and  saluting, 
stood  respectfully,  though  in  the  attitude  of  one  who 
sought  no  favour. 

All  the  men  in  the  room  looked  at  him,  some  with 
admiration  of  the  strong  young  figure  and  the  open, 
manly  face,  others  with  inquiry.  He  wondered  that 
Wood,  a  man  who  belonged  essentially  to  the  field  of 
battle,  should  be  there;  but  the  cavalry  leader,  for 
his  great  achievements,  was  high  in  the  esteem  of  the 
Confederate  Government. 

It  was  the  Secretary,  Mr.  Sefton,  who  spoke,  for  the 
others  seemed  involuntarily  to  leave  to  him  subjects 


172  BEFORE  THE  DAWN 

requiring  craft  and  guile — a  tribute  or  not  as  one 
chooses  to  take  it. 

"The  subject  upon  which  we  have  called  you  is  not 
new  to  us  nor  to  you,"  said  the  Secretary  in  expression- 
less tones.  "We  revert  to  the  question  of  a  spy — 
a  woman.  It  is  now  known  that  it  was  a  woman 
who  stole  the  important  papers  from  the  office  of  the 
President.  The  secret  service  of  General  Winder  has 
learned  that  she  has  been  in  this  city  all  the  while — 
that  is,  until  the  last  night  or  two." 

He  paused  here  a  few  moments  as  if  he  would  mark 
the  effect  of  his  words,  and  his  eyes  and  those  of 
Prescott  met.  Prescott  tried  to  read  what  he  saw 
there — to  pierce  the  subconscious  depths,  and  he  felt 
as  if  he  perceived  the  soul  of  this  man — a  mighty 
ambition  under  a  silky  exterior,  and  a  character  in 
which  a  dual  nature  struggled.  Then  his  eyes  wan- 
dered a  moment  to  Wood.  Both  he  and  Sefton  were 
mountaineers  in  the  beginning,  and  what  a  contrast 
now!  But  he  stood  waiting  for  the  Secretary  to 
proceed. 

"It  has  become  known  to  us,"  continued  the 
Secretary,  "that  this  dangerous  spy — dangerous 
because  of  the  example  she  has  set,  and  because  of  the 
connections  that  she  may  have  here — has  just  escaped 
from  the  city.  She  was  concealed  in  the  house  of 
Miss  Charlotte  Grayson,  a  well-known  Northern 
sympathizer — a  house  which  you  are  now  known, 
Captain  Prescott,  to  have  visited  more  than  once." 

Prescott  looked  again  into  the  Secretary's  eyes  and 
a  flash  of  intelligence  passed  between  them.  He  read 
once  more  in  their  depths  the  desire  of  this  man  to 
torture  him — to  drag  him  to  the  edge  of  the  abyss, 
but  not  to  push  him  over. 

"There  is  a  suspicion — or  perhaps  1  ought  to  say  a 
fear — that  you  have  given  aid  and  comfort  to  the 
enemy,  this  spy,  Captain  Prescott,"  said  the  Secretary. 

Prescott 's  eyes  flashed  with  indignant  fire. 

"  I  have  been  wounded  five  times  in  the  service  of 
the  Confederacy,"  he  replied,  "and  I  have  here  an 
arm  not  fully  recovered  from  the  impact  of  a  Northern 
bullet."  He  turned  his  left  arm  as  he  spoke.  "If 


PRESCOTT'S   ORDEAL  173 

that  was  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy,  then 
I  am  guilty." 

A  murmur  of  approval  arose.  He  had  made  an 
impression. 

"It  was  by  my  side  at  Chancellorsville  that  he 
received  one  of  his  wounds,"  said  Wood  in  his  peculiar 
slow,  drawling  tones. 

Prescott  shot  him  a  swift  and  grateful  glance. 

But  the  Secretary  persisted.  He  was  not  to  be 
turned  aside,  not  even  by  the  great  men  of  the  Con- 
federacy who  sat  in  the  room  about  him. 

"  No  one  doubts  the  courage  of  Captain  Prescott," 
he  said,  "because  that  has  been  proved  too  often — 
you  see,  Captain,  we  are  familiar  with  your  record — 
but  even  the  best  of  men  may  become  exposed  to 
influences  that  cause  an  unconscious  change  of  motive. 
I  repeat  that  none  of  us  is  superior  to  it." 

Prescott  saw  at  once  the  hidden  meaning  in  the 
words,  and  despite  himself  a  flush  rose  to  his  face. 
Perhaps  it  was  true. 

The  Secretary  looked  away  toward  the  window,  his 
glance  seeming  to  rest  on  the  white  world  of  winter 
outside,  across  which  the  yellow  streaks  of  sunlight 
fell  like  a  golden  tracery.  He  interlaced  his  fingers 
thoughtfully  upon  his  knees  while  he  waited  for  an 
answer.  But  Prescott  had  recovered  his  self- 
possession. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said.  "I 
am  not  accustomed,  perhaps,  to  close  and  delicate 
analysis  of  my  own  motives,  but  this  I  will  say,  that  I 
have  never  knowingly  done  anything  that  I  thought 
would  cause  the  Confederacy  harm;  while,  on  the 
contrary,  I  have  done  all  I  could — so  far  as  my 
knowledge  went — that  would  do  it  good." 

As  he  spoke  he  glanced  away  from  the  Secretary 
toward  the  others,  and  he  thought  he  saw  the  shadow 
of  a  smile  on  the  face  of  the  President.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  He  was  conscious  again  of  the  blood  flushing 
to  his  face.  It  was  the  President  himself  who  next 
spoke. 

"Do  you  know  where  this  woman  is,  Captain 
Prescott?"  he  asked. 


174  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"No,  I  do  not  know  where  she  is,"  he  replied, 
thankful  that  the  question  had  come  in  such  a  form. 

Wood,  the  mountaineer,  moved  impatiently.  He 
was  of  an  impetuous  disposition,  untrammeled  by  rule, 
and  he  stood  in  awe  of  nobody. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  can't  exactly  see  the 
drift  of  all  this  talk.  I'd  as  soon  believe  that  any  of 
us  would  be  a  traitor  as  Captain  Prescott,  an'  I  don't 
think  we've  got  much  time  to  waste  on  matters  like 
this.  Grant's  a-comin'.  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  we've 
got  to  think  of  meetin'  him  and  not  of  huntin'  for  a 
woman  spy." 

He  spoke  with  emphasis,  and  again  Prescott  shot 
him  another  swift  and  grateful  glance. 

"There  is  no  question  of  treason,  General  Wood," 
said  Mr.  Sefton  placidly.  "  None  of  us  would  wrong 
Captain  Prescott  by  imputing  to  him  such  a  crime. 
I  merely  suggested  an  unconscious  motive  that  might 
have  made  him  deflect  for  a  moment,  and  for  a 
moment  only,  from  the  straight  and  narrow  path  of 
duty." 

Prescott  saw  a  cruel  light  in  the  Secretary's  eyes 
and  behind  it  a  suggestion  of  enjoyment  in  the  power 
to  make  men  laugh  or  quiver  as  he  wished ;  but  he  did 
not  flinch,  merely  repeating: 

"  I  have  done  my  duty  to  the  Confederacy  as  best  I 
could,  and  I  am  ready  to  do  it  again.  Even  the 
children  among  us  know  that  a  great  battle  is  coming, 
and  I  ask  that  I  be  permitted  again  to  show  my 
loyalty  at  the  front." 

"Good  words  from  a  good  man,"  exclaimed  Wood. 

"General,"  said  the  President  quietly,  "comments 
either  for  or  against  are  not  conducive  to  the  progress 
of  an  examination." 

Wood  took  the  rebuke  in  good  part,  lifted  a  ruler 
from  the  table  and  with  an  imaginary  pocket-knife 
began  to  trim  long  shavings  from  it. 

Prescott,  despite  his  feeling  that  he  had  done  no 
moral  wrong — though  technically  and  in  a  military 
sense  he  had  sinned — could  not  escape  the  sensation 
of  being  on  trial  as  a  criminal,  and  his  heart  rose  up 
in  indignant  wrath.  Those  five  wounds  were  ample 


PRESCOTT'S   ORDEAL  175 

reply  to  such  a  charge.  He  felt  these  questions  to  be 
an  insult,  and  cold  anger  against  the  Secretary  who 
was  seeking  to  entrap  or  torture  him  rose  in  his  heart. 
There  came  with  it  a  resolve  not  to  betray  his  part  in 
the  escape  of  the  girl;  but  they  never  asked  him 
whether  or  not  he  had  helped  her  in  her  flight.  When 
he  noticed  this  his  feeling  of  apprehension  departed, 
and  he  faced  the  Secretary,  convinced  that  the  duel 
was  with  him  alone  and  that  these  others  were  but 
seconds  to  whom  Mr.  Sefton  had  confided  only  a  part 
of  what  he  knew. 

The  Secretary  asked  more  questions,  but  again  they 
were  of  a  general  nature  and  did  not  come  to  the 
point,  as  he  made  no  mention  of  Miss  Grayson  or  her 
cottage. 

Wood  said  nothing,  but  he  was  growing  more 
impatient  than  ever,  and  the  imaginary  shavings 
whittled  by  his  imaginary  knife  were  increasing  in 
length. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  still  'pears  to 
me  that  we  are  wastin'  time.  I  know  Prescott  an' 
he's  all  right.  I  don't  care  two  cents  whether  or  not 
he  helped  a  woman  to  escape.  S'pose  she  was  young 
and  pretty." 

All  smiled  saved  Sefton  and  Prescott. 

"General,  would  you  let  gallantry  override 
patriotism?"  asked  the  President. 

"There  ain't  no  woman  in  the  world  that  can 
batter  down  the  Confederacy,"  replied  the  other 
stoutly.  "  If  that  is  ever  done,  it'll  take  armies  to  do 
it,  and  I  move  that  we  adjourn." 

The  President  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "we. must  go.  Mr.  Sefton,  you 
may  continue  the  examination  as  you  will  and  report 
to  me.  Captain  Prescott,  I  bid  you  good-day,  and 
express  my  wish  that  you  may  come  clear  from  this 
ordeal. " 

Prescott  bowed  his  thanks,  but  to  Wood,  whose 
active  intervention  in  his  behalf  had  carried  much 
weight,  he  felt  deeper  gratitude,  though  he  said  noth- 
ing, and  still  stood  in  silence  as  the  others  went  out, 
leaving  him  alone  with  the  Secretary. 


176  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Mr.  Sefton,  too,  was  silent  for  a  time,  still  inter- 
lacing his  fingers  thoughtfully  and  glancing  now  and 
then  through  the  window.  Then  he  looked  at 
Prescott  and  his  face  changed.  The  cruelty  which 
had  lurked  in  his  eyes  disappeared  and  in  its  place 
came  a  trace  of  admiration,  even  liking. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  "you  have  borne 
yourself  very  well  for  a  man  who  knew  he  was  wholly 
in  the  power  of  another,  made  by  circumstances  his 
enemy  for  the  time  being.  " 

"  I  am  not  wholly  in  the  power  of  anybody, " 
replied  Prescott  proudly.  "  I  repeat  that  I  have  done 
nothing  at  any  time  of  which  I  am  ashamed  or  for 
which  my  conscience  reproaches  me." 

"That  is  irrelevant.  It  is  not  any  question  of 
shame  or  conscience,  which  are  abstract  things.  It  is 
merely  one  of  fact — that  is,  whether  you  did  or  did 
not  help  Miss  Catherwood,  the  spy,  to  escape.  I  am 
convinced  that  you  helped  her — not  that  I  condemn 
you  for  it  or  that  I  am  sorry  you  did  so.  Perhaps  it 
is  for  my  interest  that  you  have  acted  thus.  You 
were  absent  from  your  usual  haunts  yesterday  and 
the  night  before ,  and  it  was  within  that  time  that  the 
spy  disappeared  from  Miss  Grayson's.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  you  were  with  her.  You  see,  I  did  not 
press  the  question  when  the  others  were  here.  I 
halted  at  the  critical  point.  I  had  that  much  con- 
sideration for  you. " 

He  stopped  again  and  the  glances  of  these  two 
strong  men  met  once  more;  Prescott 's  open  and 
defiant,  Sef ton's  cunning  and  indirect. 

"I  hear  that  she  is  young  and  very  beautiful," 
said  the  Secretary  thoughtfully. 

Prescott  flushed. 

"Yes,  young  and  very  beautiful,"  continued  the 
Secretary.  "One  might  even  think  that  she  was 
more  beautiful  than  Helen  Harley. " 

Prescott  said  nothing,  but  the  deep  flush  remained 
on  his  face. 

"Therefore,"  continued  the  Secretary,  "I  should 
imagine  that  your  stay  with  her  was  not  unpleasant.  " 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  exclaimed  Prescott,  taking  an  angry 


PRESCOTT'S   ORDEAL  177 

step  forward,  "your  intimation  is  an  insult  and  one 
that  I  do  not  propose  to  endure. " 

"You  mistake  my  meaning,"  said  the  Secretary 
calmly.  "I  intended  no  such  intimation  as  you 
thought,  but  I  wonder  what  Helen  Harley  would 
think  of  the  long  period  that  you  have  spent  with 
one  as  young  and  beautiful  as  herself. " 

He  smiled  a  little,  showing  his  white  teeth,  and 
Prescott,  thrown  off  his  guard,  replied: 

"She  would  think  it  a  just  deed." 

"Then  you  admit  that  it  is  true ?" 

"I  admit  nothing,"  replied  Prescott  firmly.  "I 
merely  stated  what  I  thought  would  be  the  opinion  of 
Helen  Harley  concerning  an  act  of  mercy. " 

The  Secretary  smiled. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  sorry  that 
this  has  happened,  but  be  assured  that  I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  make  war  upon  you  now.  Shall  we  let  it  be 
an  armed  peace  for  the  present?" 

He  showed  a  sudden  warmth  of  manner  and  an 
easy  agreeableness  that  Prescott  found  hard  to  resist. 
Rising  from  the  chair,  he  placed  his  hand  lightly  upon 
Robert's  arm,  saying: 

"I  shall  go  with  you  to  the  street,  Captain,  if  you 
will  let  me. " 

Together  they  left  the  room,  the  Secretary  indicat- 
ting  the  way,  which  was  not  that  by  which  Prescott 
had  come.  They  passed  through  a  large  office  and 
here  Prescott  saw  many  clerks  at  work  at  little  desks, 
four  women  among  them.  Helen  Harley  was  one  of 
the  four.  She  was  copying  papers,  her  head  bent 
down,  her  brown  hair  low  on  her  forehead,  uncon- 
scious of  her  observers. 

In  her  simple  gray  dress  she  looked  not  less  beauti- 
ful than  on  that  day  when,  in  lilac  and  rose,  drawing 
every  eye,  she  received  General  Morgan.  She  did  not 
see  them  as  they  entered,  for  her  head  remained  low 
and  the  wintry  sunshine  from  the  window  gleamed 
across  her  brown  hair. 

The  Secretary  glanced  at  her  casually,  as  it  were, 
but  Prescott  saw  a  passing  look  on  his  face  that  he 
could  translate  into  nothing  but  triumphant  pro- 


i78  BEFORE  THE   DAWN 

prietorship.  Mr.  Sefton  was  feeling  more  confident 
since  the  examination  in  the  room  above. 

"She  works  well,"  he  said  laconically. 

"  I  expected  as  much, "  said  Prescott. 

"It  is  not  true  that  people  of  families  used  to  an 
easy  life  cannot  become  efficient  when  hardship 
arrives , ' '  continued  the  Secretary.  ' '  Often  they  bring 
great  zeal  to  their  new  duties.  " 

Evidently  he  was  a  man  who  demanded  rigid 
service,  as  the  clerks  who  saw  him  bent  lower  to  their 
task,  but  Helen  did  not  notice  the  two  until  they  were 
about  to  pass  through  a  far  door.  Her  cheeks  red- 
dened as  they  went  out,  for  it  hurt  her  pride  that 
Prescott  should  see  her  there — a  mere  clerk,  honest 
and  ennobling  though  she  knew  work  to  be. 

The  press  of  Richmond  was  not  without  enterprise 
even  in  those  days  of  war  and  want,  and  it  was  seldom 
lacking  in  interest.  If  not  news,  then  the  pungent 
comment  and  criticism  of  Raymond  and  Winthrop 
were  sure  to  find  attentive  readers,  and  on  the  day 
following  Prescott 's  interview  with  the  Secretary 
they  furnished  to  their  readers  an  uncommonly 
attractive  story. 

It  had  been  discovered  that  the  spy  who  stole  the 
papers  was  a  beautiful  woman — a  young  Amazon  of 
wonderful  charms.  She  had  been  concealed  in 
Richmond  all  the  while — perhaps  she  might  be  in  the 
city  yet — and  it  was  reported  that  a  young  Confeder- 
ate officer,  yielding  to  her  fascinations,  had  hidden 
and  helped  her  at  the  risk  of  his  own  ruin. 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  story  full  of  mystery  and 
attraction;  the  city  throbbed  with  it,  and  all  voices 
were  by  no  means  condemnatory.  It  is  a  singular 
fact  that  in  war  people  develop  an  extremely  senti- 
mental side,  as  if  to  atone  for  the  harsher  impulses 
that  carry  them  into  battle.  Throughout  the  Civil 
War  the  Southerners  wrote  much  so-called  poetry 
and  their  newspapers  were  filled  with  it.  This  story 
of  the  man  and  the  maid  appealed  to  them.  If  the 
man  had  fallen — well,  he  had  fallen  in  a  good  cause. 
He  was  not  the  first  who  had  been  led  astray  by  the 
tender,  and  therefore  pardonable,  emotion.  What 


PRESCOTT'S   ORDEAL  179 

did  it  matter  if  she  was  a  Northern  girl  and  a  spy  ? 
These  were  merely  added  elements  to  variety  and 
charm.  If  he  had  made  a  sacrifice  of  himself,  either 
voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  it  was  for  a  woman,  and 
women  understood  and  forgave. 

They  wondered  what  this  young  officer's  name 
might  be — made  deft  surmises,  and  by  piecing  cir- 
cumstance to  circumstance  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  sixteen  men  were  certainly  he.  It  was  some- 
what tantalizing  that  at  least  half  of  these  men,  when 
accused  of  the  crime,  openly  avowed  their  guilt  and 
said  they  would  do  it  again.  Prescott,  who  was  left 
out  of  all  these  calculations,  owing  to  the  gravity  and 
soberness  of  his  nature,  read  the  accounts  with  mingled 
amusement  and  vexation.  There  was  nothing  in  any 
of  them  by  which  he  could  be  identified,  and  he 
decided  not  to  inquire  how  the  story  reached  the 
newspapers,  being  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  he 
knew  already.  The  first  to  spe,ak  to  him  of  the 
matter  was  his  friend  Talbot. 

"  Bob,"  he  said,  "  I  wonder  if  this  is  true.  I  tried 
to  get  Raymond  to  tell  me  where  he  got  the  story,  but 
he  wouldn't,  and  as  all  the  newspapers  have  it  in  the 
same  way,  I  suppose  they  got  it  from  the  same  source. 
But  if  there  is  such  a  girl,  and  if  she  has  been  here,  I 
hope  she  has  escaped  and  that  she'll  stay  escaped. " 

It  was  pleasant  for  Prescott  to  hear  Talbot  talk 
thus,  and  this  opinion  was  shared  by  many  others  as 
he  soon  learned,  and  his  conscience  remained  at  ease, 
although  he  was  troubled  about  Miss  Grayson.  But 
he  met  her  casually  on  the  street  about  a  week 
afterward  and  she  said: 

"  I  have  had  a  message  from  some  one.  She  is  safe 
and  well  and  she  is  grateful. "  She  would  add  no 
more,  and  Prescott  did  not  dare  visit  her  house, 
watched  now  with  a  vigilance  that  he  knew  he  could 
not  escape;  but  he  wondered  often  if  Lucia  Cather- 
wood  and  he  in  the  heave  and  drift  of  the  mighty  war 
should  ever  meet  again. 

The  gossip  of  Richmond  was  not  allowed  to  dwell 
long  on  the  story  of  the  spy,  with  all  its  alluring 
mystery  of  the  man  and  the  maid.  Greater  events 


i8o  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

were  at  hand.  A  soft  wind  blew  from  the  South  one 
day.  The  ice  broke  up,  the  snow  melted,  the  wind 
continued  to  blow,  the  earth  dried — winter  was  gone 
and  spring  in  its  green  robe  was  coming.  The  time 
of  play  was  over.  The  armies  rose  from  their  sleep 
in  the  snows  and  began  to  brush  the  rust  from  the 
cannon.  Horses  stretched  themselves  and  generals 
studied  their  maps  anew.  Three  years  of  tremendous 
war  was  gone,  but  they  were  prepared  for  a  struggle 
yet  more  gigantic. 

To  those  in  Richmond  able  to  bear  arms  was  sent 
an  order — "Come  at  once  to  the  front" — and  among 
them  was  Prescott,  nothing  loath.  His  mother  kissed 
him  a  tearless  good-by,  hiding  her  grief  and  fear 
under  her  Puritan  face. 

"  I  feel  that  this  is  the  end,  one  way  or  the  other, " 
she  said. 

"I  hope  so,  mother." 

"But  it  may  be  long  delayed,"  she  added. 

To  Helen  he  said  a  farewell  like  that  of  a  boy  to 
the  girl  who  has  been  his  playmate.  Although  she 
flushed  a  little,  causing  him  to  flush,  too,  deep  tender- 
ness was  absent  from  their  parting,  and  there  was 
a  slight  constraint  that  neither  could  fail  to  notice. 

Talbot  was  going  with  him,  Wood  and  Colonel 
Harley  were  gone  already,  and  Winthrop  and  Ray- 
mond said  they  should  be  at  the  front  to  see.  Then 
Prescott  bade  farewell  to  Richmond,  where  in  the 
interval  of  war  he  had  spent  what  he  now  knew  to  be 
a  golden  month  or  two. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE     GREAT    RIVALS 

A  large  man  sat  in  the  shadow  of  a  little  rain- 
washed  tent  one  golden  May  morning  and  gazed  with 
unseeing  eyes  at  the  rich  spectacle  spread  before  him 
by  Nature.  The  sky  was  a  dome  of  blue  velvet, 
mottled  with  white  clouds,  and  against  the  line  of  the 
horizon  a  belt  of  intense  green  told  where  the  forest 
was  springing  into  new  life  under  the  vivid  touch  of 
spring.  The  wind  bore  a  faint,  thrilling  odour  of 
violets. 

The  leader  was  casting  up  accounts  and  trying  in 
vain  to  put  the  balance  on  his  own  side  of  the  ledger. 
He  dealt  much  with  figures,  but  they  were  never 
large  enough  for  his  purpose,  and  with  the  brave 
man's  faith  he  could  trust  only  in  some  new  and 
strange  source  of  supply.  Gettysburg,  that  drawn 
field  of  glorious  defeat,  lay  behind  him,  and  his  foe, 
as  he  knew,  was  gathering  all  his  forces  and  choosing 
his  ablest  leader  that  he  might  hurl  his  utmost  strength 
upon  these  thin  battalions.  But  the  soul  of  the 
lonely  man  rose  to  the  crisis. 

Everything  about  him  was  cast  in  a  large  mould, 
and  the  dignity  and  slow  gravity  of  his  manner  added 
to  his  size.  Thus  he  was  not  only  a  leader,  but  he  had 
the  look  of  one — which  is  far  from  being  always  so. 
Yet  his  habitual  expression  was  of  calm  benevolence, 
his  gestures  whenever  he  moved  were  gentle,  and  his 
gray  eyes  shed  a  mild  light.  His  fine  white  hair  and 
beard  contributed  to  his  fatherly  appearance.  One 
might  have  pointed  him  out  as  the  president  of  a 
famous  college  or  the  leader  of  a  reform  movement — 
so  little  does  Nature  indicate  a  man's  trade  by  his 
face. 

Those  around  the  gray-haired  chief,  whose  camp 
181 


1 82  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

spread  for  miles  through  the  green  forest,  were 
singularly  unlike  him  in  manner  and  bearing,  and 
perhaps  it  was  this  sharp  contrast  that  gave  to  him 
as  he  sat  among  his  battalions  the  air  of  a  patriarch. 
He  was  old;  they  were  young.  He  was  white  of  head, 
but  one  might  search  in  vain  through  these  ragged 
regiments  for  a  gray  hair.  They  were  but  boys, 
though  they  had  passed  through  some  of  the  greatest 
battles  the  world  has  ever  known,  and  to-day, 
when  there  was  a  pause  in  the  war  and  the  wind 
blew  from  the  south,  they  refused  to  be  sad  or  to 
fear  for  the  future.  If  the  truth  be  told,  the 
future  was  the  smallest  item  in  their  reckoning. 
Men  of  their  trade,  especially  with  their  youth, 
found  the  present  so  large  that  room  was  left  for 
nothing  else.  They  would  take  their  ease  now  and 
rejoice. 

Now  and  then  they  looked  toward  the  other  and 
larger  army  that  lay  facing  them  not  far  away,  but 
it  did  not  trouble  them  greatly.  There  was  by 
mutual  though  tacit  consent  an  interval  of  peace, 
and  these  foes,  who  had  learned  in  fire  and  smoke  to 
honour  each  other,  would  not  break  it  through  any 
act  of  bad  faith.  So  some  slept  on  the  grass  or  the 
fresh-cut  boughs  of  trees;  others  sang  or  listened 
to  the  music  of  old  violins  or  accordions,  while  more 
talked  on  any  subject  that  came  into  their  minds, 
though  their  voices  sank  when  it  was  of  far  homes 
not  seen  since  long  ago.  Of  the  hostile  camp  facing 
theirs  a  like  tale  might  have  been  told. 

It  seemed  to  Prescott,  who  sat  near  the  General's 
tent,  as  if  two  huge  picnic  parties  had  camped  near 
each  other  with  the  probability  that  they  would 
join  and  become  one  in  a  short  time — an  illusion 
arising  from  the  fact  that  he  had  gone  into  the  war 
without  any  deep  feeling  over  its  real  or  alleged 
causes. 

"Why  do  you  study  the  Yankees  so  hard?"  asked 
Talbot,  who  lay  in  the  shade  of  a  tree.  "They  are  not 
troubling  us,  and  I  learned  when  I  cut  my  eye  teeth 
not  to  bother  with  a  man  who  isn't  bothering  me — 
a  rule  that  works  well." 


THE   GREAT   RIVALS  183 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Talbot,"  replied  Prescott, 
"I  was  wondering  how  all  this  would  end." 

"The  more  fool  you,"  rejoined  Talbot.  "Leave 
all  that  to  Marse  Bob.  Didn't  you  see  how  hard 
he  was  thinking  back  there?" 

Prescott  scarcely  heard  his  words,  as  his  eyes  were 
caught  by  an  unusual  movement  in  the  hostile  camp. 
He  carried  a  pair  of  strong  glasses,  being  a  staff 
officer,  and  putting  them  to  his  eyes  he  saw  at  once 
that  an  event  of  uncommon  interest  was  occur- 
ring within  the  lines  of  the  Northern  army.  There 
was  a  great  gathering  of  officers  near  a  large  tent,  and 
beyond  them  the  soldiers  were  pressing  near.  A 
puff  of  smoke  appeared  suddenly,  followed  by  a 
spurt  of  flame,  and  the  sound  of  a  cannon  shot 
thundered  in  their  ears. 

Talbot  uttered  an  angry  cry. 

"What  do  they  mean  by  firing  on  us  when  we're 
not  bothering  them  ? "  he  cried. 

But  neither  shot  nor  shell  struck  near  the  lines  of 
the  Southern  army.  Peace  still  reigned  unbroken. 
There  was  another  flash  of  fire,  another  cannon  shot, 
and  then  a  third.  More  followed  at  regular  intervals. 
They  sounded  like  a  signal  or  a  salute. 

"I  wonder  what  it  can  mean?"  said  Prescott. 

"If  you  want  to  find  out,  ask,"  said  Talbot,  and 
taking  his  comrade  by  the  arm,  he  walked  toward  a 
line  of  Northern  sentinels  posted  in  a  wood  on  their 
right. 

"I've  established  easy  communication,"  said  Talbot ; 
"there's  a  right  good  fellow  from  Vermont  over  here 
at  the  creek  bank.  He  talks  through  his  nose,  but 
that  don't  hurt  him.  I  traded  him  some  whisky 
for  a  pouch  of  tobacco  last  night,  and  he'll  tell  us  what 
the  row  is  about." 

Prescott  accepted  his  suggestion  without  hesitation. 
It  was  common  enough  for  the  pickets  on  either  side 
to  grow  friendly  both  before  and  after  those  terrific 
but  indecisive  battles  so  characteristic  of  the  Civil 
War,  a  habit  in  which  the  subordinate  officers  some- 
times shared  while  those  of  a  higher  rank  closed  their 
eyes.  It  did  no  military  injury,  and  contributed 


i84  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

somewhat  to  the  smoothness  and  grace  of  life.  The 
thunder  of  the  guns,  each  coming  after  its  stated 
interval,  echoed  again  in  their  ears.  A  great  cloud 
of  yellowish-brown  smoke  rose  above  the  trees. 
Prescott  used  his  glasses  once  more,  but  he  was  yet 
unable  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  commotion. 
Talbot,  putting  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  blew  a  soft,  low 
but  penetrating  whistle,  like  the  distant  note  of  a 
mocking-bird.  A  tall,  thin  man  in  faded  blue,  with  a 
straggling  beard  on  his  face  and  a  rifle  in  his  hand, 
came  forward  among  the  trees. 

"What  do  you  want,  Johnny  Reb?"  he  asked  in 
high  and  thin  but  friendly  tones. 

"Nothing  that  will  cost  you  anything,  Old 
Vermont,"  replied  Talbot. 

"Wall,  spit  it  out,"  said  the  Vermonter.  "If  I'd 
been  born  in  your  State  I'd  commit  suicide  if  anybody 
found  it  out.  Ain't  your  State  the  place  where  all 
they  need  is  more  water  and  better  society,  just  the 
same  as  hell?" 

"I  remember  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Talbot,  "who 
took  a  trip  once  with  four  other  men.  He  said  they 
were  a  gentleman  from  South  Carolina,  a  man  from 
Maryland,  a  fellow  from  New  York,  and  a  damned 
scoundrel  from  Vermont.  I  think  he  hit  it  off  just 
about  right." 

1  The  Vermonter  grinned,  his  mouth  forming  a  wide 
chasm  across  the  thin  face.  He  regarded  the  South- 
erner-with  extreme  good  nature. 

"Say,  old  Johnny  Reb,"  he  asked,  "what  do  you 
fellows  want  anyway?" 

"We'd  like  to  know  when  your  army  is  going  to 
retreat,  and  we  have  come  over  here  to  ask  you," 
replied  Talbot. 

The  cannon  boomed  again,  its  thunder  rolling  and 
echoing  in  the  morning  air.  The  note  was  deep  and 
solemn  and  seemed  to  Prescott  to  hold  a  threat.  Its 
effect  upon  the  Vermonter  was  remarkable.  He 
straightened  his  thin,  lean  figure  until  he  stood  as 
stiff  as  a  ramrod.  Then  dropping  his  rifle,  he  raised 
his  hand  and  gave  the  cannon  an  invisible  salute. 

"This  army  never  retreats  again,"  he  said.     "You 


THE   GREAT   RIVALS  185 

hear  me,  Johnny  Reb,  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  never 
goes  back  again.  I  know  that  you  have  whipped  us 
more  than  once,  and  that  you  have  whipped  us  bad. 
I  don't  forget  Manassas  and  Fredericksburg  and 
Chancellors ville,  but  all  that's  done  past  and  gone. 
We  didn't  have  good  generals  then,  and  you  won't 
do  it  again — never  again,  I  say.  We're  comin',  Johnny 
Reb,  with  the  biggest  and  best  army  we've  had,  and 
we'll  just  naturally  sweep  you  off'  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

The  emphasis  with  which  he  spoke  and  his  sudden 
change  of  manner  at  the  cannon  shot  impressed 
Prescott,  coming,  too,  upon  his  own  feeling  that  there 
was  a  solemn  and  ominous  note  in  the  sound  of  the 
gun. 

"What  do  those  shots  mean?"  he  asked.  "Are 
they  not  a  salute  for  somebody  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Vermonter,  a  glow  of  joy  appear- 
ing in  his  eye.  "Grant  has  come  !" 

"Ah!" 

"He's  to  command  us  now,"  the  Vermonter  con- 
tinued, "and  you  know  what  that  means.  You  have 
got  to  stand  up  and  take  your  medicine.  You  hear 
me  telling  you !" 

.  A  sudden  thrill  of  apprehension  ran  through 
Prescott 's  veins.  He  had  been  hearing  for  a  long 
time  of  this  man  Grant  and  his  great  deeds  in  the 
West,  where  no  general  of  the  South  seemed  able  to 
stand  before  him.  Now  he  was  here  in  the  East 
among  that  group  of  officers  yonder,  and  there  was 
nothing  left  for  either  side  but  to  fight.  Grant  would 
permit  no  other  choice;  he  was  not  like  the  other 
Northern  generals — he  would  not  find  excuses,  and 
in  his  fancy  double  and  triple  the  force  before  him, 
but  he  would  drive  straight  for  the  heart  of  his  foe. 

It  was  a  curious  chance,  but  as  the  echo  of  the 
last  gun  rolled  away  among  the  trees  the  skies  were 
darkened  by  leaden  clouds  rolling  up  from  the  south- 
west and  the  air  became  somber  and  heavy.  Prescott 
saw  as  if  in  a  vision  the  mighty  battles  that  were  to 
come  and  the  miles  of  fallen  scattered  through  all 
the  wilderness  that  lay  around  them. 


i86  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

But  Talbot,  gifted  with  a  joyous  soul  that  looked 
not  far  into  the  future,  never  flinched.  He  saw  the 
cloud  on  the  face  of  Prescott  and  the  glow  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Vermonter,  but  he  was  stirred  by  no 
tumult. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said  calmly.  "You've  got  your 
Grant  and  you  are  welcome  to  him,  but  Marse  Bob 
is  back  there  waiting  for  him."  And  he  nodded 
over  his  shoulder  toward  the  tent  where  the  lone  man 
had  been  sitting.  His  face  as  he  spoke  was  lighted 
by  the  smile  of  supreme  confidence. 

They  thanked  the  man  for  his  news  and  walked 
slowly  back  to  their  camp,  Prescott  thoughtful  all 
the  way.  He  knew  now  that  the  crisis  had  come. 

The  two  great  protagonists  stood  face  to  face  at 
last. 

When  Robert  announced  the  arrival  of  Grant  to  his 
Commander-in-Chief  a  single  flash  appeared  in  the 
eye  of  Lee  and  then  the  mask  settled  back  over  his 
face,  as  blank  and  expressionless  as  before. 

Then  Prescott  left  the  General's  tent  and  walked 
toward  a  little  house  that  stood  in  the  rear  of  the 
army,  well  beyond  the  range  of  a  hostile  cannon 
shot.  The  arrival  of  Grant,  now  conceded  by  North 
and  South  alike  to  be  the  ablest  general  on  the 
Northern  side,  was  spreading  with  great  swiftness 
among  the  soldiers,  but  these  boys,  veterans  of  many 
fields,  showed  little  concern;  they  lived  in  the  present 
and  thought  little  of  "next  week." 

Prescott  noted,  as  he  had  noted  so  many  times 
before,  the  motley  appearance  of  the  army,  but  with 
involuntary  motion  he  began  to  straighten  and 
smooth  his  own  shabby  uniform.  He  was  about  to 
enter  the  presence  of  a  woman  and  he  was  young 
and  so  was  she. 

The  house  was  a  cheap  and  plain  structure,  such  as 
a  farmer  in  that  sterile  region  would  build  for  himself; 
but  farmer  and  family  were  gone  long  since,  swept 
away  by  the  tide  of  war,  and  their  home  was  used  for 
other  purposes. 

Prescott  knocked  lightly  at  the  door  and  Helen 
Harley  opened  it. 


THE   GREAT   RIVALS  187 

"Can  the  Colonel  see  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"He  will  see  any  one  if  we  let  him,"  she  replied. 

"Then  I  am  just  'any  one' !" 

"  I  did  not  say  that, "  she  replied  with  a  smile. 

She  stood  aside  and  Prescott  entered  the  room,  a 
bare  place,  the  rude  log  walls  covered  with  neither 
lath  nor  plaster,  yet  not  wholly  lacking  in  proof  that 
woman  was  present.  The  scanty  articles  of  furniture 
were  arranged  with  taste,  and  against  the  walls  were 
tacked  a  few  sheets  from  last  year's  New  York  and 
London  illustrated  weeklies.  Vincent  Harley  lay  on 
a  pallet  of  blankets  in  the  corner,  a  petulant  look  on 
his  face.  \ 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Prescott, "  he  said,  "  and  then 
I'm  not,  because  you  fill  my  soul  with  envy.  Here  I 
am,  tied  to  these  blankets,  while  you  can  walk  about 
and  breathe  God's  air  as  you  will.  I  wouldn't  mind 
it  so  much  if  I  had  got  that  bullet  in  a  big  battle,  say 
like  Gettysburg,  but  to  be  knocked  off  one's  horse  as 
nice  as  you  please  in  a  beggarly  little  skirmish.  It's 
too  much,  I  say." 

"  You  ought  to  be  thankful  that  the  bullet,  instead 
of  putting  you  on  the  ground,  didn't  put  you  under  it," 
replied  Prescott. 

"  Now,  don't  you  try  the  pious  and  thankful  dodge 
on  me  ! "  cried  Harley.  "  Helen  does  it  now  and  then, 
but  I  stop  her,  even  if  I  have  to  be  impolite  to  a  lady. 
I  wouldn't  mind  your  feelings  at  all." 

His  sister  sat  down  on  a  camp  stool.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that  she  understood  her  brother's  temper  and 
knew  how  to  receive  his  outbursts. 

"There  you  are  again,  Helen,"  he  cried,  seeing 
her  look.  "A  smile  like  that  indicates  a  belief  in 
your  own  superiority.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  do  it. 
You  hurt  my  vanity,  and  you  are  too  good  a  sister  for 
that." 

Prescott  laughed. 

"  I  think  you  are  getting  well  fast,  Harley, "  he  said. 
"  You  show  too  much  energy  for  an  invalid. " 

"I  wish  the  surgeon  thought  the  same,"  replied 
Harley,  "but  that  doctor  is  feeble-minded;  I  know 
he  is!  Isn't  he,  Helen?" 


i88  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

i 

'*  Perhaps  he's  keeping  you  here  because  he  doesn't 
want  us  to  beat  the  Yankees  too  soon, "  she  replied. 

"Isn't  it  true,  Prescott,  that  a  man  is  always 
appreciated  least  by  his  own  family?"  he  asked. 

He  spoke  as  if  in  jest,  but  there  was  a  trace  of 
vanity,  and  Prescott  hesitated  for  a  reply,  not  wishing 
to  appear  in  a  false  light  to  either  brother  or  sister. 

•'  Slow  praise  is  worth  the  most» "  he  replied  ambig- 
uously. Harley  showed  disappointment.  He  craved 
a  compliment  and  he  expected  it. 

While  they  talked  Prescott  was  watching  Helen 
Harley  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  Outside  were 
the  wild  soldiers  and  war;  here,  between  these  narrow 
log  walls,  he  beheld  woman  and  peace.  He  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  sick  distaste  of  the  war,  its 
endless  battles,  its  terrible  slaughter,  and  the  doubt 
of  what  was  to  come  after. 

Harley  claimed  his  attention^  for  he  could  not  bear 
to  be  ignored.  Moreover,  he  was  wounded,  and  with 
all  due  deference  to  his  sister,  the  visit  was  to  him. 

"  Does  either  army  mean  to  move  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  think  so;  I  came  to  tell  you  about  it,"  replied 
Prescott. 

Harley  at  once  was  full  of  eagerness.  This  touched 
him  on  his  strongest  side.  He  was  a  warrior  by 
instinct,  and  his  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  army 
could  never  be  languid. 

"Why,  what  news  have  you?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"Grant  has  come!" 

He  uttered  an  exclamation,  but  for  a  little  while 
made  no  further  comment.  Like  all  the  others,  he 
seemed  to  accept  the  arrival  of  the  new  Northern 
leader  as  the  signal  for  immediate  action,  and  he 
wished  to  think  over  it. 

"Grant,"  he  said  presently,  "will  attack  us,  and 
you  don't  know  what  it  costs  me  to  be  lying  here. 
I  must  be  up  and  I  will.  Don't  you  see  what  is 
coming  ?  Don't  you  see  it,  I  say  ? " 

"  What  is  it  that  you  see  ? "  asked  Prescott. 

"Why,  General  Lee  is  going  to  win  the  greatest 
victory  of  the  age.  He  will  beat  their  biggest  army, 
led  by  their  best  General.  Why,  I  see  it  now !  It 


THE   GREAT   RIVALS  189 

will  be  the  tactics  of  Chancellorsville  over  again. 
What  a  pity  Jackson  is  gone!  But  there's  Wood. 
He'll  make  a  circuit  with  ten  thousand  men  and  hit 
'em  on  the  right  flank,  and  at  the  same  time  I'll  go 
around  with  my  cavalry  and  dig  into  'em  on  the  left. 
The  Yankees  won't  be  dreaming  of  it,  for  Bobby  Lee 
will  be  pounding  'em  in  front  and  they'll  have  eyes 
only  for  him.  Won't  it  be  grand,  magnificent !" 

There  was  a  flash  in  his  eye  now  and  he  was  no 
longer  irritable  or  impatient. 

"  Isn't  war  a  glorious  game  ? "  he  said.  "  Of  course 
it  is  best  not  to  have  war,  but  if  we  must  have  it,  it 
draws  out  of  a  man  the  best  that  is  in  him,  if  he's  any 
good  at  all."  • 

There  was  a  light  knock  at  the  door,  and  Prescott, 
who  was  contrasting  brother  and  sister,  noticed  their 
countenances  change  oddly  and  in  a  manner  as 
different  as  their  characters.  Evidently  they  knew 
the  knock.  She  closed  her  lips  tightly  and  a  faint 
pink  tint  in  her  cheeks  deepened.  He  looked  up 
quickly  and  the  light  in  his  eyes  spoke  welcome. 
"Come  in!"  he  called  in  a  loud  voice,  but  his  sister 
said  nothing. 

The  lady  who  entered  was  Mrs.  Markham,  as  crisp 
as  the  breath  of  the  morning.  Her  dress  was  fresh 
and  bright  in  colour,  a  brilliant  note  in  a  somber 
camp. 

"Oh,  Colonel ! "  she  cried,  going  forward  and  taking 
both  of  Harley's  hands  in  the  warmth  of  her  welcome. 
"  I  have  been  so  anxious  to  see  you  again,  and  I  am 
glad  to  know  that  you  are  getting  well. " 

A  pleased  smile  came  over  Harley's  face  and 
remained  there.  Here  was  one,  and  above  all  a 
woman,  who  could  appreciate  him  at  his  true  value, 
and  whom  no  small  drop  of  jealousy  or  envy  kept 
from  saying  so. 

"You  give  me  too  much  credit,  Mrs.  Markham," 
he  said. 

"Not  at  all,  my  dear  Colonel,"  she  replied  viva- 
ciously. "  It  is  not  enough.  One  who  wins  laurels  on 
such  a  terrible  field  as  war  has  a  right  to  wear  them. 
Do  not  all  of  us  remember  that  great  charge  of  yours 


i9o  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

just  at  the  critical  moment,  and  the  splendid  way  in 
which  you  covered  the  retreat  from  Gettysburg. 
You  always  do  your  duty,  Colonel. " 

"  My  brother  is  not  the  only  man  in  the  army  who 
does  his  duty, "  said  Miss  Harley,  "  and  there  are  so 
many  who  are  always  true  that  he  does  not  like  to  be 
singled  out  for  special  praise." 

Colonel  Harley  frowned  and  Mrs.  Markham  shot  a 
warning  side  glance  at  Miss  Harley.  Prescott, 
keenly  watching  them  both,  saw  a  flash  as  of  perfect 
understanding  and  defiance  pass  between  two  pairs 
of  eyes  and  then  he  saw  nothing  more.  Miss  Harley 
was  intent  upon  her  work,  and  Mrs.  Markham,  blonde, 
smiling  and  innocent,  was  talking  to  the  Colonel, 
saying  to  him  the  words  that  he  liked  to  hear  and 
soothing  his  wounded  spirit. 

Mrs.  Markham  had  just  come  from  Richmond  to 
visit  the  General,  and  she  told  gaily  of  events  in  the 
Southern  capital. 

"We  are  cheerful  there,  Colonel,"  she  said,  "con- 
fident that  such  men  as  you  will  win  for  us  yet.  Oh, 
we  hear  what  is  going  on.  They  print  news  on  wall- 
paper, but  we  get  it  somehow.  We  have  our  diver- 
sions, too.  It  takes  a  thousand  dollars,  Confederate 
money,  to  buy  a  decent  calico  dress,  but  sometimes 
we  have  the  thousand  dollars.  Besides,  we  have 
taken  out  all  the  old  spinning-wheels  and  looms  and 
we've  begun  to  make  our  own  cloth.  We  don't 
think  it  best  that  the  women  should  spend  all  their 
time  mourning  while  the  men  are  at  the  front  fighting 
so  bravely." 

Mrs.  Markham  chattered  on;  whatever  might  be 
the  misfortunes  of  the  Confederacy  they  did  not 
seem  to  impress  her.  She  was  so  lively  and  cheerful, 
and  so  deftly  mingled  compliments  with  her  gaiety, 
that  Prescott  did  not  wonder  at  Harley's  obvious 
attraction,  but  he  was  not  sorry  to  see  the  frown 
deepen  on  the  face  of  the  Colonel's  sister.  The  sound 
of  some  soldiers  singing  a  gay  chorus  reached  their 
ears  and  he  asked  Helen  if  she  would  come  to  the 
door  of  the  house  and  see  them.  She  looked  once 
doubtfully  at  the  other  woman,  but  rose  and  went 


THE   GREAT   RIVALS  191 

with  him,  the  two  who  were  left  behind  making  no 
attempt  to  detain  her. 

"Too  much  watching  is  not  good,  Helen,"  said 
Prescott,  reproachfully.  "You  are  looking  quite 
pale.  See  how  cheerful  the  camp  is  !  Did  you  ever 
before  hear  of  such  soldiers?" 

She  looked  over  the  tattered  army  as  far  as  she 
could  see  and  her  eyes  grew  wet. 

"  War  is  a  terrible  thing, "  she  replied,  "  and  I  think 
that  no  cause  is  wholly  right;  but  truly  it  makes  one's 
heart  tighten  to  see  such  devotion  by  ragged  and  half- 
starved  soldiers,  hardly  a  man  of  whom  is  free  from 
wound  or  scar  of  one. " 

The  rolling  thunder  of  a  cannon  shot  came  from  a 
point  far  to  the  left. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"  It  means  probably  that  the  tacit  truce  is  broken, 
but  it  is  likely  that  it  is  more  in  the  nature  of  a  range- 
finding  shot  than  anything  else.  We  are  strongly 
intrenched,  and  as  wise  a  man  as  Grant  will  try  to 
flank  us  out  of  here,  before  making  a  general  attack. 
I  am  sure  there  will  be  no  great  battle  for  at  least  a 
week. " 

"And  my  brother  may  be  well  in  that  time,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  him  once  more  in  the 
saddle,  where  he  craves  to  be  and  where  he  belongs. " 

There  are  women  who  prefer  to  see  the  men 
whom  they  love  kept  back  by  a  wound  in  order  that 
they  might  escape  a  further  danger,  but  not  of  such 
was  Helen.  Prescott  remembered,  too,  the  single 
glance,  like  a  solitary  signal  shot,  that  had  passed 
between  her  and  Mrs.  Markham. 

"  We  are  all  anxious  to  see  Colonel  Harley  back  in 
the  saddle, "  he  replied,  "  and  for  a  good  reason.  His 
is  one  of  our  best  sabers. " 

Then  she  asked  him  to  tell  her  of  the  army,  the 
nature  of  the  position  it  now  occupied,  the  movements 
they  expected,  and  he  replied  to  her  in  detail  when 
he  saw  how  unaffected  was  her  interest.  It  pleased 
him  that  she  should  be  concerned  about  these  things 
and  should  understand  them  as  he  explained  their 
nature;  and  she,  seeing  his  pleasure,  was  willing  to 


iga  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

play  upon  it.  So  talking,  they  walked  farther  and 
farther  from  the  house  and  were  joined  presently 
by  the  cheerful  Talbot. 

"It's  good  of  you  to  let  us  see  you,  Miss  Harley," 
he  said.  "We  are  grateful  to  your  brother  for  getting 
wounded  so  that  you  had  to  come  and  nurse  him; 
but  we  are  ungrateful  because  he  stays  hurt  so  long 
that  you  can't  leave  him  oftener. " 

Talbot  dispensed  a  spontaneous  gaiety.  It  was 
his  boast  that  he  could  fall  in  love  with  every  pretty 
girl  whom  he  saw  without  committing  himself  to  any. 
"That  is,  boys,"  he  said,  "I  can  hover  on  the  brink 
without  ever  falling  over,  and  it  is  the  most  delightful 
sensation  to  know  that  you  are  always  in  danger  and 
that  you  will  always  escape  it.  You  are  a  hero 
without  the  risk." 

He  led  them  away  from  more  sober  thoughts, 
talking  much  of  Richmond  and  the  life  there. 

They  went  back  presently  to  the  house  and  met 
Mrs.  Markham  at  the  door  just  as  she  was  leaving. 

"The  Colonel  is  so  much  better,"  she  said  sweetly 
to  Miss  Harley.  "  I  think  that  he  enjoys  the  visits  of 
friends." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it, "  replied  the  girl  coldly,  and  she 
went  into  the  room. 


.CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    GREAT    REVIVAL 

Two  men  sat  early  the  next  morning  in  a  tent  with 
a  pot  of  coffee  and  a  breakfast  of  strips  of  bacon 
between  them.  One  was  elderly,  calm  and  grave, 
and  his  face  was  known  well  to  the  army;  the  other 
was  youngish,  slight,  dark  and  also  calm,  and  the 
soldiers  were  not  familiar  with  his  face.  They  were 
General  Lee  and  Mr.  Sefton. 

The  Secretary  had  arrived  from  Richmond  just 
before  the  dawn  with  messages  of  importance,  and 
none  could  tell  them  with  more  easy  grace  than  he. 
He  was  quite  unembarrassed  now  as  he  sat  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  General,  announcing  the  wishes 
of  the  Government — wishes  which  lost  no  weight  in 
the  telling,  and  whether  he  was  speaking  or  not  he 
watched  the  man  before  him  with  a  stealthy  gaze 
that  nothing  escaped. 

"  The  wishes  of  the  Cabinet  are  clear,  General  Lee, " 
he  said,  "and  I  have  been  chosen  to  deliver  them  to 
you  orally,  lest  written  orders  by  any  chance  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. " 

"And  those  wishes  are?" 

"That  the  war  be  carried  back  into  the  enemy's 
own  country.  It  is  better  that  he  should  feel  its  ills 
more  heavily  than  we.  You  will  recall,  General,  how 
terror  spread  through  the  North  when  you  invaded 
Pennsylvania.  Ah,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Gettysburg !" 

He  paused  and  looked  from  under  lowered  eye- 
lashes at  the  General.  There  had  been  criticism  of 
Lee  because  of  Gettysburg,  but  he  never  defended 
himself,  taking  upon  his  shoulders  all  the  blame  that 
might  or  might  not  be  his.  Now  when  Mr.  Sefton 
mentioned  the  name  of  Gettysburg  in  such  a  connec- 

193 


i94  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

tion  his  face  showed  no  change.  The  watchful 
Secretary  could  not  see  an  eyelid  quiver. 

"Yes,  Gettysburg  was  a  great  misfortune  for  us," 
said  the  General,  in  his  usual  calm,  even  voice.  "  Our 
troops  did  wonders  there,  but  they  did  not  win.  " 

"I  scarcely  need  to  add,  General,"  said  the  Secre- 
tary, "that  the  confidence  of  the  Government  in  you 
is  still  unlimited." 

Then  making  deferential  excuses,  Mr.  Sefton  left 
the  tent  and  Lee  followed  his  retreating  figure  with  a 
look  of  antipathy. 

The  Secretary  wandered  through  the  camp,  watch- 
ing everything.  He  had  that  most  valuable  of  all 
qualities,  the  ability  to  read  the  minds  of  men,  and 
now  he  set  himself  to  the  discovery  of  what  these 
simple  soldiers,  the  cannon  food,  were  thinking.  He 
did  it,  too,  without  attracting  any  attention  to  him- 
self, by  a  deft  question  here,  a  suggestion  there,  and 
then  more  questions,  always  indirect,  but  leading  in 
some  fashion  to  the  point.  Curiously,  but  truly,  his 
suggestions  were  not  optimistic,  and  after  he  talked 
with  a  group  of  soldiers  and  passed  on  the  effect 
that  he  left  was  depressing.  He,  too,  looked 
across  toward  the  Northern  lines,  and,  civilian 
though  he  was,  he  knew  that  their  tremendous 
infolding  curve  was  more  than  twice  as  great  as 
that  forming  the  lines  of  the  South.  A  singular 
light  appeared  in  the  Secretary's  eyes  as  he 
noticed  this,  but  he  made  no  verbal  comment,  not 
even  to  himself. 

The  Secretary's  steps  led  straight  toward  the  house 
in  which  the  wounded  Colonel  Harley  lay,  and  when 
the  voice  bidding  him  to  enter  in  response  to  his 
knock  was  feminine,  he  smiled  slightly,  entered  with 
light  step,  and  bowed  with  all  the  old  school's 
courteous  grace  over  the  hand  of  Helen  Harley. 

"There  are  some  women,  Miss  Harley,"  he  said, 
"  who  do  not  fear  war  and  war's  alarms. " 

"Some,  Mr.  Sefton!"  she  replied.  "There  are 
many — in  the  South,  I  know — and  there  must  be  as 
many  in  the  North. " 

"It  is  your  generous  heart  that  speaks,"  he  said, 


THE   GREAT   REVIVAL  195 

and  then  he  turned  to  Colonel  Harley,  who  was  claim- 
ing the  attention  of  an  old  acquaintance. 

The  two  men  shook  hands  with  great  warmth. 
Here  was  one  who  received  the  Secretary  without 
reserve.  Miss  Harley,  watching,  saw  how  her 
brother  hung  upon  the  words  ,of  this  accomplished 
man  of  the  world ;  how  he  listened  with  a  pleased  air 
to  his  praise  and  how  he  saw  in  the  Secretary  a  great 
man  and  a  friend. 

He  asked  Helen  presently  if  she  would  not  walk 
with  him  a  little  in  the  camp  and  her  brother  seconded 
the  idea.  He  was  not  intentionally  selfish,  and  he 
loved  his  sister. 

"She  sits  here  all  the  time  nursing  me,"  he  said, 
"when  I'm  almost  well,  and  she  needs  the  fresh  air. 
Take  her  out,  Mr.  Sefton,  and  I'll  thank  you  if  she 
doesn't. " 

But  she  was  willing  to  go.  She  was  young;  red 
blood  flowed  in  her  veins;  she  wished  to  be  happy; 
and  the  world,  despite  this  black  cloud  of  war  which 
hung  over  her  part  of  it,  was  curious  and  interesting. 
She  was  not  fond  of  close  rooms  and  sick  beds,  so  with 
a  certain  relief  she  walked  forth  by  the  side  of  the 
Secretary. 

It  was  another  of  those  beautiful  days  in  May 
which  clothe  the  Virginia  earth  in  a  gauze  of  spun 
silver.  Nature  was  blooming  afresh,  and  peace, 
disturbed  by  the  vain  battle  of  the  night  before,  had 
returned  to  the  armies. 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  most  extraordinary  thing  to 
behold  these  two  armies  face  to  face  and  yet  doing 
nothing,"  said  Helen. 

"  Wars  consist  of  much  more  than  battles,"  replied 
the  Secretary. 

"  I  am  learning  that, "  she  said. 

She  looked  about  her  with  eager  interest,  custom 
not  dimming  to  her  the  strange  sights  of  an  army  in 
camp  and  on  the  eve  of  a  great  conflict.  Nothing 
was  like  what  she  imagined  it  would  be.  The  soldiers 
seemed  to  have  no  fear  of  death;  in  fact,  nothing,  if 
they  could  be  judged  by  their  actions,  was  further 
from  their  thoughts;  they  were  gay  rather  than  sad, 


196  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

and  apparently  were  enjoying  life  with  an  indiffer- 
ence to  circumstances  that  was  amazing. 

They  were  joined  presently  by  Prescott,  who  thought 
it  no  part  of  his  cue  to  avoid  the  Secretary.  Mr. 
Sefton  received  him  with  easy  courtesy,  and  the 
three  strolled  on  together. 

The  Secretary  asked  the  news  of  the  camp,  and 
Prescott  replied  that  the  Reverend  Doctor  Warren, 
a  favourite  minister,  was  about  to  preach  to  the 
soldiers. 

"He  is  worth  hearing,"  said  Prescott.  "Doctor 
Warren  is  no  ordinary  man,  and  this  is  Sunday,  you 
know." 

This  army,  like  other  armies,  included  many  wild 
and  lawless  men  who  cherished  in  their  hearts 
neither  the  fear  of  God  nor  the  fear  of  man;  but 
the  South  was  religious,  and  if  the  battle  or  march 
did  not  forbid,  Sunday  was  observed  with  the  rites 
of  the  church.  The  great  Jackson,  so  eager  for  the 
combat  on  other  days,  would  not  fight  on  Sunday  if 
it  could  be  helped. 

The  crowd  was  gathering  already  to  hear  the 
minister,  who  would  address  them  from  a  rude  little 
platform  built  in  the  centre  of  a  glade. 

The  day  was  so  calm,  so  full  of  the  May  bloom  that 
Helen  felt  its  peace  steal  over  her,  and  for  the  moment 
there  was  no  war;  this  was  not  an  army,  but  just  a 
great  camp-meeting  in  the  woods,  such  as  the  South 
often  had  and  still  has. 

The  soldiers  were  gathered  already  to  the  number 
of  many  thousands,  some  sitting  on  stumps  and  logs 
and  others  lying  on  the  ground.  All  were  quiet, 
inspired  with  respect  for  the  man  and  his  cloth. 

"  Let  us  sit  here  and  listen, "  said  Prescott,  and  the 
three,  sitting  on  a  convenient  log,  waited.  . 

Doctor  Warren,  for  he  was  an  M.A.  and  a  Ph.D.  of 
a  great  American  university  and  had  taken  degrees 
at  another  in  Germany,  ascended  his  rude  forest 
pulpit.  He  was  then  about  forty  years  of  age;  tall, 
thin,  with  straight  black  hair,  slightly  long,  and  with 
angular  but  intellectual  features. 

"  A  good  man, "  thought  Helen,  and  she  was  deeply 


THE   GREAT   REVIVAL  197 

impressed  by  his  air  of  authority  and  the  respect  that 
he  so  evidently  inspired. 

He  spoke  to  them  as  to  soldiers  of  the  cross,  and  he 
made  his  appeal  directly  to  their  hearts  and  minds, 
never  to  their  passions.  He  did  not  inquire  into  the 
causes  of  the  conflict  in  which  they  were  engaged, 
he  had  no  criticism  for  the  men  on  the  other  side; 
he  seemed  rather  to  include  them  in  his  address.  He 
said  it  was  a  great  war,  marked  by  many  terrible 
battles  as  it  would  be  marked  by  many  more,  and  he 
besought  them  so  to  bear  themselves  that  whatever 
the  issue  none  could  say  that  he  had  not  done  his  duty 
as  he  saw  it.  And  whether  they  fell  in  battle  or  not, 
that  would  be  the  great  comfort  to  those  who  were 
at  home  awaiting  their  return. 

Prescott  noticed  many  general  officers  in  the  crowd 
listening  as  attentively  as  the  soldiers.  All  sounds 
in  the  camp  had  died  and  the  speaker's  clear  voice 
rose  now  and  penetrated  far  through  the  forest.  The 
open  air,  the  woods,  the  cannon  at  rest  clothed  the 
scene  with  a  solemnity  that  no  cathedral  could  have 
imparted.  The  same  peace  enfolded  the  Northern 
army,  and  it  required  but  little  fancy  to  think  that  the 
soldiers  there  were  listening,  too.  It  seemed  at  the 
moment  an  easy  and  natural  thing  for  them  both  to 
lay  down  their  arms  and  go  home. 

The  minister  talked,  too,  of  home,  a  place  that  few 
of  those  who  heard  him  had  seen  in  two  years  or  more, 
but  he  spoke  of  it  not  to  enfeeble  them,  rather  to  call 
another  influence  to  their  aid  in  this  struggle  of  valour 
and  endurance.  Prescott  saw  tears  rise  more  than 
once  in  the  eyes  of  hardened  soldiers,  and  he  became 
conscious  again  of  the  power  of  oratory  over  the 
Southern  people.  The  North  loved  to  read  and  the 
South  to  hear  speeches ;  that  seemed  to  him  to  typify 
the  difference  in  the  sections. 

The  minister  grew  more  fiery  and  more  impassioned. 
His  penetrating  voice  reached  far  through  the  woods 
and  around  him  was  a  ring  of  many  thousands.  Few 
have  ever  spoken  to  audiences  so  large  and  so  singular ; 
of  women  there  were  not  twenty,  just  men,  and  men 
mostly  young,  mere  boys  the  majority,  but  with  faces 


i98  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

brown  and  scarred  and  clothing  tattered  and  worn, 
men  hardened  to  wounds  and  reckless  of  death,  men 
who  had  seen  life  in  its  wildest  and  most  savage 
phases.  But  all  the  brown  and  scarred  faces  were 
upturned  to  the  preacher,  and  the  eyes  of  the  soldiers 
as  they  listened  gleamed  with  emotional  fire.  The 
wind  moaned  now  and  then,  but  none  heard  it. 
Around  them  the  smoky  camp-fires  flared  and  cast  a 
distorting  light  over  those  who  heard. 

Prescott's  mind,  as  he  listened  to  the  impassioned 
voice  of  the  preacher  and  looked  at  the  brown,  wild 
faces  of  those  who  listened,  inevitably  went  back  to 
the  Crusades.  There  was  now  no  question  of  right  or 
wrong,  but  he  beheld  in  it  the  spirit  of  men  stirred  by 
their  emotions  and  gathering  a  sort  of  superhuman 
fire  for  the  last  and  greatest  conflict,  for  Armageddon. 
Hero  was  the  great  drama  played  against  the  back- 
ground of  earth  and  sky,  and  all  the  multitude  were 
actors. 

The  spirit  of  the  preacher,  too,  was  that  of  the 
crusading  priest.  The  battlefields  before  them  were 
but  part  of  the  battle  of  life ;  it  was  their  duty  to  meet 
the  foe  there  as  bravely  as  they  met  the  temptation 
of  evil,  and  then  he  preached  of  the  reward  afterward, 
the  Heaven  to  come.  His  listeners  began  to  see  a 
way  into  a  better  life  through  such  a  death,  and  many 
shook  with  emotion. 

The  spell  was  complete.  The  wind  still  moaned 
afar,  and  the  fires  still  flared,  casting  their  pallid  light, 
but  all  followed  the  preacher.  They  saw  only  his 
deepset,  burning  eyes,  the  long  pale  face,  and  the  long 
black  hair  that  fell  around  it.  They  followed  only 
his  promises  of  death  and  life.  He  besought  them  to 
cast  their  sins  at  the  feet  of  the  Master — to  confess 
and  prepare  for  the  great  day  to  come. 

Prescott  was  a  sober  man,  one  who  controlled  his 
emotions,  but  he  could  not  help  being  shaken  by  the 
scene,  the  like  of  which  the  world  has  not  witnessed 
since  the  Crusades — the  vast  forest,  the  solemn  sky 
overhead,  the  smoky  fires  below,  and  the  fifty  thou- 
sand in  the  shadow  of  immediate  death  who  hung  on 
the  words  of  one  man. 


THE   GREAT   REVIVAL  199 

The  preacher  talked  of  olden  days,  of  the  men  who, 
girding  themselves  for  the  fight,  fell  in  the  glory  of 
the  Lord.  Theirs  was  a  beautiful  death,  he  said,  and 
forgiveness  was  for  all  who  should  do  as  they  and 
cast  away  their  sins.  Groans  began  to  arise  from  the 
more  emotional  of  the  soldiers;  some  wept,  many  now 
came  forward  and,  confessing  their  sins,  asked  that 
prayers  be  said  for  their  souls.  Others  followed  and 
then  they  went  forward  by  thousands.  Over  them 
still  thundered  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  denouncing 
the  sin  of  this  world  and  announcing  the  glory  of  the 
world  to  come.  Clouds  swept  up  the  heavens  and 
the  fires  burned  lower,  but  no  one  noticed.  Before 
them  flashed  the  livid  face  and  burning  eyes  of  the 
preacher,  and  he  moved  them  with  his  words  as  the 
helmsman  moves  the  ship. 

Denser  and  denser  grew  the  throng  that  knelt  at  his 
feet  and  begged  for  his  prayers,  and  there  was  the 
sound  of  weeping.  Then  he  ceased  suddenly  and, 
closing  his  eyes  and  bending  his  head,  began  to  pray. 
Involuntarily  the  fifty  thousand,  too,  closed  their 
eyes  and  bent  their  heads. 

He  called  them  brands  snatched  from  the  burning; 
he  devoted  their  souls  to  God.  There  on  their  knees 
they  had  confessed  their  sins  and  he  promised  them 
the  life  everlasting.  New  emotions  began  to  stir  the 
souls  of  those  who  mourned.  Death?  What  was 
that?  Nothing.  A  mere  dividing  place  between 
mortality  and  immortality,  a  mark,  soon  passed,  and 
nothing  more.  They  began  to  feel  a  divine  fire. 
They  welcomed  wounds  and  death,  the  immortal 
passage,  and  they  longed  for  the  battlefield  and  the 
privilege  of  dying  for  their  country.  They  thought 
of  those  among  their  comrades  who  had  been  so 
fortunate  as  to  go  on  before,  and  expected  joyfully 
soon  to  see  them  again. 

Prescott  looked  up  once,  and  the  scene  was  more 
powerful  and  weird  than  any  he  had  ever  seen 
before.  The  great  throng  of  people  stood  there  with 
heads  bowed  listening  to  the  single  voice  pouring  out 
its  invocation  and  holding  them  all  within  its  sweep 
and  spell. 


200  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

The  preacher  asked  the  blessing  of  God  on  every 
one  and  finished  his  prayer.  Then  he  began  to  sing : 

"  I've  found  a  friend  in  Jesus, 

He  is  everything  to  me, 
He's  the  fairest  of  ten  thousand  to  my  soul; 

The  Lily  of  the  Valley  in  Him  alone  I  see — 
All  I  need  to  cleanse  and  make  me  fully  whole. 

"  He's  my  comfort  in  trouble, 
In  sorrow  He's  my  stay ; 

He  tells  me  every  care  on  Him  to  roll. 
He's  the  Lily  of  the  Valley,  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star 

He's  the  fairest  of  ten  thousand  to  my  soul." 

He  sang  one  verse  alone,  and  then  the  soldiers 
began  to  join,  at  first  by  tens,  then  by  hundreds  and 
then  by  thousands,  until  the  grand  chorus,  rolling 
and  majestic,  of  fifty  thousand  voices  swelled  through 
all  the  forest : 

"  He's  the  Lily  of  the  Valley,  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star, 
He's  the  fairest  of  ten  thousand  to  my  soul." 

The  faces  of  the  soldiers  were  no  longer  sad.  They 
were  transfigured  now.  Joy  had  come  after  sorrow 
and  then  forgiveness.  They  heard  the  promise. 

"The  best  of  all  ways  to  prepare  soldiers  for  battle," 
said  a  cynical  voice  at  Prescott's  elbow. 

It  was  Mr.  Sefton. 

"But  it  is  not  so  intended,"  rejoined  Prescott. 

"Perhaps  not,  but  it  will  suffice." 

"His  is  what  I  call  constructive  oratory,"  presently 
continued  the  Secretary  in  a  low  voice.  "You  will 
notice  that  what  he  says  is  always  calculated  to 
strengthen  the  mind,  although  the  soldiers  them- 
selves do  not  observe  it." 

"But  no  man  could  be  more  sincere,"  said  Helen. 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,"  replied  the  Secretary. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  think  that  the  men 
singing  here  may  fall  in  battle  in  a  few  days,"  said 
Helen. 

The  singing  ended  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  soldiers 
were  engaged  in  many  avocations,  going  about  the 
business  of  the  day.  Prescott  and  Mr.  Sefton  took 


THE   GREAT   REVIVAL  201 

Helen  back  to  the  house  and  then  each  turned  to  his 
own  task. 

Several  officers  were  gathered  before  a  camp-fire 
on  the  following  morning  mending  their  clothes. 
They  were  in  good  humour  because  Talbot  was  with 
them  and  gloom  rarely  endured  long  in  his  presence. 

"After  all,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be 
proud?"  said  Talbot.  "Will  it  profit  me  more  to  be 
killed  in  a  decent  uniform  than  in  a  ragged  one  ?" 

"Don't  you  want  to  make  a  respectable  casualty?" 
asked  Prescott. 

"Yes;  but  I  don't  like  to  work  so  much  for  it," 
replied  Talbot.  "It's  harder  to  dress  well  now  than 
it  is  to  win  a  battle.  You  can  get  mighty  little 
money  and  it's  worth  mighty  little  after  you  get  it. 
The  'I  promise  to  pay'  of  the  Confederate  States  of 
America  has  sunk  terribly  low,  boys." 

He  held  up  a  Confederate  bill  and  regarded  it  with 
disgust. 

"  It  would  take  a  wheelbarrow  full  of  those  to  buy 
a  decent  suit  of  clothes,"  he  said.  "Do  you  know  the 
luck  I  had  yesterday  when  I  tried  to  improve  my 
toilet?" 

All  showed  interest. 

"More  than  six  months'  pay  was  due  me,"  said 
Talbot,  "and  thinking  I'd  buy  something  to  wear,  I 
went  around  to  old  Seymour,  the  paymaster,  for  an 
installment.  'See  here,  Seymour,'  I  said,  'can't  you 
let  me  have  a  month's  pay.  It's  been  so  long  since  I 
have  had  any  money  that  I've  forgotten  how  it  looks. 
I  want  to  refresh  my  memory.' 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  the  look  old  Seymour 
put  on.  You'd  have  thought  I'd  asked  him  for 
the  moon.  'Talbot'  he  said,  'you're  the  cheekiest 
youngster  I've  met  in  a  long  time.' 

"'But  the  army  owes  me  six  months'  pay,'  I  said. 
'What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?'  he  asked.  'I'd  like 
to  know  what  use  a  soldier  has  for  money  ?'  Then 
he  looked  me  up  and  down  as  if  it  wouldn't  work  a 
footrule  hard  to  measure  me.  But  I  begged  like  a 
good  fellow — said  I  wanted  to  buy  some  new  clothes, 
and  I'd  be  satisfied  if  he'd  let  me  have  only  a  month's 


202  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

pay.  At  last  he  gave  me  the  month's  pay — five  hun- 
dred dollars — in  nice  new  Confederate  bills,  and  I 
went  to  a  sutler  to  buy  the  best  he  had  in  the  way 
of  raiment. 

"  I  particularly  wanted  a  nice  new  shirt  and  found 
one  just  to  suit  me.  The  price  ?'  I  said  to  the  sutler. 
'Eight  hundred  dollars,'  he  answered,  as  if  he  didn't 
care  whether  I  took  it  or  not.  That  settled  me  so  far 
as  the  shirt  question  was  concerned — I'd  have  to  wait 
for  that  until  I  was  richer;  but  I  looked  through  his 
stock  and  at  last  I  bought  a  handkerchief  for  two 
hundred  dollars,  two  paper  collars  for  one  hundred 
dollars  each,  and  I've  got  this  hundred  dollars  left. 
Oh,  I'm  a  bargainer  !" 

And  he  waved  the  Confederate  bill  aloft  in  triumph. 

"I'd  give  this  hundred  dollars  for  a  good  cigar," 
he  added,  "but  there  isn't  one  in  the  army." 

One  of  the  men  sang : 

"  I  am  busted,  mother,  busted. 

Gone  the  last  unhappy  check; 
And  the  infernal  sutler  s  prices 

Make  every  pocket-book  a  wreck." 

Prescott  sat  reading  a  newspaper.  It  was  the 
issue  of  the  Richmond  Whig  of  April  30,  1864,  and  his 
eyes  were  on  these  paragraphs : 

"That  the  great  struggle  is  about  to  take  place  for 
the  possession  of  Richmond  is  conceded  on  all  sides. 
The  enemy  is  marshaling  his  cohorts  on  the  Rapa- 
hannock  and  the  Peninsula,  and  that  a  last  desperate 
effort  will  be  made  to  overrun  Virginia  and  occupy 
her  ancient  capital  is  admitted  by  the  enemy  himself. 
What,  then,  becomes  the  duty  of  the  people  of 
Richmond  in  view  of  the  mighty  conflict  at  hand  ?  It 
is  evidently  the  same  as  that  of  the  commander  of  a 
man-of-war  who  sails  out  of  port  to  engage  the  foes  of 
his  flag  in  mortal  combat.  The  decks  are  cleared  for 
action;  non-combatants  are  ordered  below  or  ashore; 
the  supply  of  ammunition  and  food  is  looked  to,  and 
a  short  prayer  uttered  that  Heaven  will  favour  the 
right  and  protect  the  land  and  the  loved  ones  for 
whom  the  battle  is  waged. 


THE   GREAT   REVIVAL  203 

"We  sincerely  hope  and  pray  that  the  red  waves  of 
battle  may  not,  as  in  1862,  roll  and  break  and  hiss 
against  the  walls  of  the  capital,  and  the  ears  of  our 
suffering  but  resolute  people  may  never  again  be 
saluted  by  the  reports  of  hostile  guns.  But  our  hopes 
may  be  disappointed ;  the  enemy  may  come  again  as 
he  has  come  before,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  the 
battle  may  be  fought  on  these  hills  and  in  these 
streets.  It  is  with  a  view  of  this  possible  contingency 
that  we  would  urge  upon  our  people  to  make  all 
needful  preparation  for  whatever  fate  betides  them, 
and  especially  to  give  our  brave  and  unconquerable 
defenders  a  clear  deck  and  open  field.  And  above 
all,  let  the  living  oracles  of  our  holy  religion,  and 
pious  men  and  women  of  every  persuasion,  remember 
that  God  alone  giveth  the  victory,  and  that  His  ear 
is  ever  open  to  the  prayer  of  the  righteous." 

Prescott's  thoughts  the  next  morning  were  of 
Lucia  Catherwood,  who  had  floated  away  from  him 
in  a  sort  of  haze.  It  seemed  a  long  time  since  they 
parted  that  night  in  the  snow,  and  he  found  himself 
trying  to  reproduce  her  face  and  the  sounds  of  her 
voice.  Where  was  she  now  ?  With  that  army  which 
hung  like  a  thunder  cloud  on  their  front?  He  had 
no  doubt  of  it.  Her  work  would  be  there.  He  felt 
that  they  were  going  to  meet  again,  and  it  would 
not  be  long. 

That  day  the  Southern  breeze  blew  stronger  and 
sweeter  than  ever.  It  came  up  from  the  Gulf,  laden 
with  a  million  odours,  and  the  little  wild  flowers  in 
delicate  tints  of  pink  and  purple  and  blue  peeped  up 
amid  the  shades  of  the  forest. 

That  night  Grant,  with  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  men  and  four  hundred  guns,  crossed  the 
Rapidan  and  advanced  on  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia. 

The  fiercest  and  bloodiest  campaign  recorded  since 
history  rose  from  the  past  was  about  to  begin. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE     WILDERNESS 

There  is  in  Virginia  a  grim  and  sterile  region  the 
name  of  which  no  American  ever  hears  without  a 
shudder.  When  you  speak  to  him  of  the  Wilderness, 
the  phantom  armies  rise  before  him  and  he  hears  the 
thunder  of  the  guns  as  the  vast  struggle  sweeps 
through  its  shades.  He  sees,  too,  the  legions  of  the 
dead  strewn  in  the  forest,  a  mighty  host,  and  he 
sighs  to  think  so  many  of  his  countrymen  should  have 
fallen  in  mutual  strife. 

It  is  a  land  that  deserves  its  name.  Nature  there  is 
cold  and  stern.  The  rock  crops  up  and  the  thin  red 
soil  bears  only  scrub  forest  and  weary  bushes.  All  is 
dark,  somber  and  lonely,  as  if  the  ghosts  of  the  fallen 
had  claimed  it  for  their  playground. 

The  woodchopper  seeks  his  hut  early  at  night,  and 
builds  high  the  fire  for  the  comfort  of  the  blaze.  He 
does  not  like  to  wander  in  the  dark  over  the  ground 
where  vanished  armies  fought  and  bled  so  long.  He 
sees  and  hears  too  much.  He  knows  that  his  time — 
the  present — has  passed  with  the  day,  and  that  when 
the  night  comes  it  belongs  again  to  the  armies;  then 
they  fight  once  more,  though  the  battle  is  soundless 
now,  amid  the  shades  and  over  the  hills  and  valleys. 

Now  and  then  he  turns  from  the  fire  and  its  com- 
radeship and  looks  through  the  window  into  the 
darkness.  He,  too,  shudders  as  he  thinks  of  the 
past  and  remembers  the  long  roll,  Chancellors ville, 
the  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania  and  the  others.  Even 
the  poor  woodchopper  knows  that  this  melancholy 
tract  of  ground  has  borne  more  dead  men's  bones  than 
any  other  of  which  history  tells,  and  now  and  then 
he  asks  why,  but  no  one  can  give  him  the  answer  he 
wishes.  They  say  only  that  the  battles  were  fought, 
204 


THE   WILDERNESS  205 

that  here  the  armies  met  for  the  death  struggle 
which  both  knew  was  coming  and  which  came  as 
they  knew. 

The  Wilderness  has  changed  but  little  in  the  genera- 
tion since  Grant  and  Lee  met  there.  The  sullen 
soil  is  sullen  and  unyielding  still.  As  of  old  it  crops 
up  here  ia  stone  and  there  turns  a  thin  red  tint  to  the 
sun.  The  sassafras  bushes  and  the  scrub  oaks  moan 
sadly  in  the  wind,  and  few  human  beings  wander  over 
the  desolate  hills  and  valleys. 

At  Gettysburg  there  is  a  city,  and  the  battlefield 
is  covered  with  monuments  in  scores  and  scores,  and 
all  the  world  goes  to  see  them.  The  white  marble 
and  granite  shafts  and  pillars  and  columns,  the  green 
hills  and  fields  around,  the  sunshine  and  the  sound  of 
many  voices  are  cheerful  and  tell  of  life ;  you  are  not 
with  the  dead — you  are  simply  with  the  glories  of 
the  past. 

But  it  is  different  when  you  come  to  the  Wilderness. 
Here  you  really  walk  with  ghosts.  There  are  no 
monuments,  no  sunshine,  no  green  grass,  no  voices; 
all  is  silent,  somber  and  lonely,  telling  of  desolation 
and  decay.  To  many  it  is  a  more  real  monument 
than  the  clustering  shafts  of  Gettysburg.  All  this 
silence,  all  this  abandonment  tell  in  solemn  and 
majestic  tones  that  here  not  one  great  battle  was 
fought,' but  many;  that  here  in  one  year  shone  the 
most  brilliant  triumph  of  the  South;  and  here,  in 
another  year,  she  fought  her  death  struggle. 

When  you  walk  among  the  bushes  and  the  scrub 
oaks  and  listen  to  the  desolate  wind  you  need  no 
inscription  to  tell  you  that  you  are  in  the  Wilderness. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Helen  Harley  saw  the  sun  rise  in  a  shower  of  red 
and  gold  on  a  May  morning,  and  then  begin  a  slow 
and  quiet  sail  up  a  sky  of  silky  blue.  It  even  touched 
the  gloomy  shades  of  the  Wilderness  with  golden 
gleams,  and  shy  little  flowers  of  purple,  nestling  in  the 
scant  grass,  held  up  their  heads  to  the  glow.  From 
the  window  in  the  log  house  in  which  she  had  nursed 
her  brother  she  looked  out  at  the  sunrise  and  saw 
only  peace,  and  the  leaves  of  the  new  spring  foliage 
moving  gently  in  the  wind. 

The  girl's  mind  was  not  at  rest.  In  the  night  she 
had  heard  the  rumbling  of  wheels,  the  tread  of  feet, 
and  many  strange,  muffled  sounds.  Now  the  morning 
was  here  and  the  usual  court  about  her  was  missing. 
Gone  were  the  epaulets,  the  plumes  and  the  swords 
in  sheath.  The  generals,  Raymond  and  Winthrop, 
who  had  come  only  the  day  before.  Talbot,  Prescott 
and  Wood,  were  all  missing. 

The  old  house  seemed  desolate,  abandoned,  and 
she  was  lonely.  She  looked  through  the  window  and 
saw  nothing  that  lived  among  the  bushes  and  the  scrub 
oaks — only  the  scant  grass  and  the  new  spring  foliage 
waving  in  the  gentle  wind.  Here  smouldered  the 
remains  of  a  fire  and  there  another,  and  yonder  was 
where  the  tent  of  the  Commander  had  stood;  but  it 
was  gone  now,  and  not  a  sound  came  to  her  ears  save 
those  of  the  forest.  She  was  oppressed  by  the  silence 
and  the  portent. 

Her  brother  lay  upon  the  bed  asleep  in  full  uniform, 

his  coat  covering  his  bandages,  and  Mrs.  Markham 

was  in  the  next  room,  having  refused  to  return  to 

Richmond.     She   would  remain  near  her  husband, 

206 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  207 

she  said,  but  Helen  felt  absolutely  alone,  deserted  by 
all  the  world. 

No,  not  alone !  There,  coming  out  of  the  forest, 
was  a  single  horseman,  the  grandest  figure  that  she 
had  ever  seen — a  man  above  six  feet  in  height, 
as  strong  and  agile  as  a  panther,  his  head  crowned 
with  magnificent  bushy  black  hair,  and  his  face 
covered  with  a  black  beard,  through  which  gleamed 
eyes  as  black  as  night.  He  rode,  a  very  king,  she 
thought. 

The  man  came  straight  toward  the  window  of  the 
log  house,  the  feet  of  his  horse  making  no  sound  upon 
the  turf.  Here  was  one  who  had  come  to  bid  her 
good-by. 

She  put  her  hand  through  the  open  window,  and 
General  Wood,  the  mountaineer,  bending  low  over 
his  horse's  neck,  kissed  it  with  all  the  grace  and 
gallantry  of  an  ancient  knight. 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  come  back, "  she  said  softly. 

"  I  will,  I  must,  if  you  are  here, "  he  said. 

He  kissed  her  hand  again. 

"Your  brother?"  he  added. 

"He  is  still  asleep." 

"What  a  pity  his  wounds  are  so  bad !  We'll  need 
him  to-day. " 

"Is  it  coming?  Is  it  really  coming  to-day,  under 
these  skies  so  peaceful  and  beautiful?"  she  asked  in 
sudden  terror,  though  long  she  had  been  prepared 
for  the  worst. 

"  Grant  is  in  the  Wilderness. " 

She  knew  what  that  meant  and  asked  no  more. 

Wood's  next  words  were  those  of  caution. 

"There  is  a  cellar  under  this  house, "  he  said.  " If 
the  battle  comes  near  you,  seek  shelter  in  it.  You 
promise  ?" 

"Yes,  I  promise." 

"And  now  good-by." 

"Good-by,"  she  said. 

He  kissed  her  hand  again  and,  without  another  word, 
turned  and  rode  through  the  forest  and  away.  She 
watched  him  until  he  was  quite  out  of  sight,  and  then 
her  eyes  wandered  off  toward  the  east,  where  the  new 


2o8  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

sun  was  still  piling  up  glowing  bands  of  alternate  red 
and  gold. 

Her  brother  stirred  on  the  bed  and  awoke.  He 
was  fretful  that  morning. 

"Why  is  the  place  so  silent?"  he  asked,  with  the 
feeling  of  a  vain  man  who  does  not  wish  to  be  left 
alone. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  replied,  though  well  she 
knew. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  Mrs.  Markham 
entered,  dressed  as  if  for  the  street — fresh,  blonde 
and  smiling. 

"You  two  are  up  early,  Helen, "  she  said.  "  What 
do  you  see  there  at  the  window  ? " 

"Nothing,"  replied  Helen.  She  did  not  tell 
any  one  of  the  parting  with  Wood.  That  belonged 
to  her  alone. 

A  coloured  woman  came  with  the  breakfast,  which 
was  served  on  a  little  table  beside  Harley's  bed.  He 
propped  himself  up  with  a  pillow  and  sat  at  the  table 
with  evident  enjoyment.  The  golden  glory  of  the 
new  sun  shone  there  through  the  window  and  fell 
upon  them. 

"How  quiet  the  camp  is!"  said  Mrs.  Markham 
after  awhile.  'Surely  the  army  sleeps  late.  I  don't 
hear  any  voices  or  anything  moving. " 

"No,"  said  Helen. 

"  No,  not  a  thing ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham. 

"Eh?"  cried  Harley. 

His  military  instinct  leaped  up.  Silence  where 
noise  has  been  is  ominous. 

"Helen,"  he  said.  "  go  to  the  window,  will  you  ?" 

"No.  I'll  go."  said  Mrs.  Markham,  and  she  ran  to 
the  window,  where  she  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 

"Why,  there  is  nothing  here!"  she  exclaimed. 
"There  are  no  tents,  no  guns,  no  soldiers!  Every- 
thing is  gone!  What  does  it  mean?" 

The  answer  was  ready. 

From  afar  in  the  forest,  low  down  under  the  horizon's 
rim,  came  the  sullen  note  of  a  great  gun — a  dull, 
sinister  sound  that  seemed  to  roll  across  the  Wilderness 
and  hang  over  the  log  house  and  those  within  it. 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  209 

Harley  threw  himself  on  the  bed  with  a  groan  of 
grief  and  rage. 

"Oh,  God,"  he  cried,  "1>hat  I  should  be  tied  here 
on  such  a  day ! " 

Helen  ran  to  the  window  but  saw  nothing — only  the 
waving  grass,  the  somber  forest  and  the  blue  skies  and 
golden  sunshine  above.  The  echo  of  the  cannon 
shot  died  and  again  there  was  silence,  but  only  for 
a  moment.  The  sinister  note  swelled  up  again  from 
the  point  under  the  horizon's  rim  far  off  there  to  the 
left,  and  it  was  followed  by  another,  and  more  and 
more,  until  they  blended  into  one  deep  and  sullen  roar. 

Unconsciously  Constance  Markham,  the  cynical, 
the  worldly  and  the  self-possessed,  seized  Helen 
Harley 's  hand  in  hers. 

I  The  battle  ! "  she  cried.     "  It  is  the  battle  ! " 

4  Yes, "  said  Helen ;  "  I  knew  that  it  was  coming. " 
4 Ah,  our  poor  soldiers!" 

I 1  pity  those  of  both  sides. " 

4  And  so  do  I.     I  did  not  mean  it  that  way  " 

The  servant  was  cowering  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
Harley  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stood,  staggering. 

44 1  must  be  at  the  window ! "  he  said. 

Helen  darted  to  his  support. 

"But  your  wounds,"  she  said.  "You  must  think 
of  them ! " 

"I  tell  you  I  shall  stay  at  the  window!"  he  ex- 
claimed with  energy  "  If  I  cannot  fight,  I  must  see  ! " 

She  knew  the  tone  that  would  endure  no  denial, 
and  they  helped  him  to  the  window,  where  they 
propped  him  in  a  chair  with  his  eyes  to  the  eastern 
forest.  The  glow  of  battle  came  upon  his  face  and 
rested  there. 

"Listen!"  he  cried.  "Don't  you  hear  that  music? 
It's  the  big  guns,  not  less  than  twenty.  You  cannot 
hear  the  rifles  from  here.  Ah.  if  I  were  only  there  ! " 

The  three  looked  continually  toward  the  east,  where 
a  somber  black  line  was  beginning  to  form  against  the 
red-and-gold  glow  of  the  sunrise.  Louder  and  louder 
sounded  the  cannon.  More  guns  were  coming  into 
action,  and  the  deep,  blended  and  violent  note  seemed 
to  roll  up  against  the  house  until  every  log,  solid  as  it 


210  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

was,  trembled  with  the  concussion.  Afar  over  the 
forest  the  veil  of  smoke  began  to  grow  wider  and 
thicker  and  to  blot  out  the  red-and-gold  glory  of  the 
sunrise. 

Harley  bent  his  head.  He  was  listening — not  for 
the  thunder  of  the  great  guns,  but  for  the  other 
sounds  that  he  knew  went  with  it — the  crash  of  the 
rifles,  the  buzz  and  hiss  of  the  bullets  flying  in  clouds 
through  the  air,  the  gallop  of  charging  horsemen,  the 
crash  of  falling  trees  cut  through  by  cannon  shot, 
and  the  shouts  and  cries.  But  he  heard  only  the 
thunder  of  the  great  guns  now,  so  steady,  so  persistent 
and  so  penetrating  that  he  felt  the  floor  tremble 
beneath  him. 

He  searched  the  forest  with  eyes  trained  for  the 
work,  but  saw  no  human  being — only  the  waving 
grass,  the  somber  woods,  and  a  scared  lizard  rattling 
the  bark  of  a  tree  as  he  fled  up  it. 

In  the  east  the  dull,  heavy  cloud  of  smoke  was 
growing,  spreading  along  the  rim  of  the  horizon, 
climbing  the  concave  arch  and  blotting  out  all  the 
glory  of  the  sunrise.  The  heavy  roar  was  like  the 
sullen;  steady  grumbling  of  distant  thunder,  and  the 
fertile  fancy  of  Harley,  though  his  eyes  saw  not, 
painted  all  the  scene  that  was  going  on  within  the 
solemn  shades  of  the  Wilderness — the  charge,  the 
defense,  the  shivered  regiments  and  brigades;  the 
tread  of  horses,  cannon  shattered  by  cannon,  the 
long  stream  of  wounded  to  the  rear,  and  the  dead, 
forgotten  amid  the  rocks  and  bushes.  He  had  beheld 
many  such  scenes  and  he  had  been  a  part  of  them. 
But  who  was  winning  now  ?  If  he  could  only  lift  that 
veil  of  the  forest ! 

Every  emotion  showed  on  the  face  of  Harley.  Vain, 
egotistic,  and  often  selfish,  he  was  a  true  soldier;  his 
was  the  military  inspiration,  and  he  longed  to  be  there 
in  the  field,  riding  at  the  head  of  his  horsemen  as  he 
had  ridden  so  often,  and  to  victory.  He  thought  of 
Wood,  a  cavalry  leader  greater  than  himself,  doing  a 
double  part,  and  for  a  moment  his  heart  was  filled 
with  envy.  Then  he  flushed  with  rage  because  of  the 
wounds  that  tied  him  there  like  a  baby.  What  a 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  211 

position  for  him,  Vincent  Harley,  the  brilliant  horse- 
man and  leader !  He  even  looked  with  wrath  upon 
his  sister  and  Mrs.  Markham,  two  women  whom  he 
admired  so  much.  Their  place  was  not  here,  nor  was 
his  place  here  with  them.  He  was  eaten  with  doubt 
and  anxiety.  Who  was  losing,  who  was  winning  out 
there  beyond  the  veil  of  the  forest  where  the  pall  of 
smoke  rose  ?  He  struck  the  window-sill  angrily  with 
his  fist. 

"  I  hate  this  silence  and  desolation  here  around  us, " 
he  exclaimed,  "with  all  that  noise  and  battle  off  there 
where  we  cannot  see  !  It  chills  me  ! " 

But  the  two  women  said  nothing,  still  sitting  with 
their  hands  in  each  other's  and  unconscious  of  it; 
forgetting  now  in  this  meeting  of  the  two  hundred 
thousand  the  petty  personal  feelings  that  had  divided 
them. 

Louder  swelled  the  tumult.  It  seemed  to  Helen, 
oblivious  to  all  else,  that  she  heard  amid  the  thunder 
of  the  cannon  other  and  varying  notes.  There  was  a 
faint  but  shrill  incessant  sound  like  the  hum  of 
millions  of  bees  flying  swiftly,  and  another,  a  regular 
but  heavier  noise,  was  surely  the  tread  of  charging 
horsemen.  The  battle  was  rolling  a  step  nearer  to 
them,  and  she  began  to  see,  low  down  under  the  pall 
of  smoke,  flashes  of  fire  like  swift  strokes  of  lightning. 
Then  it  rolled  another  step  nearer  and  its  tumult  beat 
heavily  and  cruelly  on  the  drums  of  her  ears.  Yet 
the  deathly  stillness  in  the  scrub  oaks  around  the 
house  continued.  They  waved  as  peacefully  as  ever 
in  the  gentle  wind  from  the  west.  It  was  still  a  battle 
heard  but  not  seen. 

She  would  have  left  the  window  to  cower  in  the 
corner  with  the  coloured  woman  who  served  them, 
but  this  struggle,  of  which  she  could  see  only  the 
covering  veil,  held  her  appalled.  It  was  misty, 
intangible,  unlike  anything  of  which  she  had  read  or 
heard,  and  yet  she  knew  it  to  be  real.  They  were  in 
conflict,  the  North  and  the  South,  there  in  the  forest, 
and  she  sat  as  one  in  a  seat  in  a  theatre  who  looked 
toward  a  curtained  stage. 

When  she  put  her  free  hand  once  on  the  window- 


212  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

sill  she  felt  beneath  her  fingers  the  faint,  steady 
trembling  of  the  wood  as  the  vast,  insistent  volume 
of  sound  beat  upon  it.  The  cloud  of  smoke  now 
spread  in  a  huge,  somber  curve  across  all  the  east, 
and  the  swift  flashes  of  fire  were  piercing  through  it 
faster  and  faster.  The  volume  of  sound  grew  more 
and  more  varied,  embracing  many  notes. 

"It  comes  our  way,"  murmured  Harley,  to  himself 
rather  than  to  the  women. 

Helen  felt  a  quiver  run  through  the  hand  of  Mrs. 
Markham  and  she  looked  at  her  face.  The  elder 
woman  was  pale,  but  she  was  not  afraid.  She,  too, 
would  not  leave  the  window,  held  by  the  same  spell. 

"Surely  it  is  a  good  omen!"  murmured  Harley; 
"the  field  of  Chancellors ville,  where  we  struck  Hooker 
down,  is  in  this  same  Wilderness." 

"But  we  lost  there  our  right  arm — Jackson,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham. 

"True,  alas  !"  said  Harley. 

The  aspect  of  the  day  that  had  begun  so  bright  and 
clear  was  changing.  The  great  pall  of  smoke  in  the 
east  gave  its  character  to  all  the  sky.  From  the 
west  clouds  were  rolling  up  to  meet  it.  The  air  was 
growing  close,  sultry  and  hot.  The  wind  ceased  to 
blow.  The  grass  and  the  new  leaves  hung  motion- 
less. All  around  them  the  forest  was  still  heavy  and 
somber.  The  coloured  woman  in  the  corner  began  to 
cry  softly,  but  from  her  chest.  They  could  hear  her 
low  note  under  the  roar  of  the  guns,  but  no  one  rebuked 
her. 

"It  comes  nearer  and  nearer,"  murmured  Harley. 

There  was  relief,  even  pleasure  in  his  tone.  He 
had  forgotten  his  sister  and  the  woman  to  whom  his 
eyes  so  often  turned.  That  which  concerned  him 
most  in  life  was  passing  behind  the  veil  of  trees  and 
bushes,  and  its  sound  filled  his  ears.  He  had  no 
thought  of  anything  else.  It  was  widening  its  sweep, 
coming  nearer  to  the  house  where  he  was  tied  so 
wretchedly  by  wounds ;  and  he  would  see  it — see  who 
was  winning^ — his  own  South  he  fiercely  hoped. 

The  thoughts  of  brother  and  sister  at  that  moment 
were  alike.  All  the  spirit  and  fire  of  the  old  South 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  213 

flushed  in  every  vein  of  both.  They  were  of  an  old 
aristocracy,  with  but  two  ambitions,  the  military  and 
the  political,  and  while  they  prayed  for  complete 
success  in  the  end,  they  wanted  another  great  triumph 
on  the  field  of  battle.  Gettysburg,  that  insuperable 
bar,  was  behind  them,  casting  its  gloomy  memory 
over  the  year  between;  but  this  might  take  its  place, 
atoning  for  it,  wiping  it  out.  But  there  was  doubt 
and  fear  in  the  heart  of  each ;  this  was  a  new  general 
that  the  North  had,  of  a  different  kind  from  the  old — 
one  who  did  not  turn  back  at  a  defeat,  but  came  on 
again  and  hammered  and  hammered.  They  repeated 
to  themselves  softly  the  name  "Grant."  It  had  to 
them  a  short,  harsh,  abrupt  sound,  and  it  did  not 
grow  pleasant  with  repetition. 

An  odour,  the  mingled  reek  of  smoke,  burnt  gun- 
powder, trampled  dust  and  sweating  men,  reached 
them  and  was  offensive  to  their  nostrils.  Helen 
coughed  and  then  wiped  her  face  with  her  handker- 
chief. She  was  surprised  to  find  her  cheeks  damp 
and  cold.  Her  lips  felt  harsh  and  dry  as  they 
touched  each  other. 

The  trembling  of  the  house  increased,  and  the 
dishes  from  the  breakfast  which  they  had  left  on  the 
table  kept  up  an  incessant  soft,  jarring  sound.  The 
battle  was  still  spreading;  at  first  a  bent  bow,  then  a 
semi-circle,  the  horns  of  the  crescent  were  now 
extending  as  if  they  meant  to  meet  about  the  house, 
and  yet  they  saw  not  a  man,  not  a  horse,  not  a  gun; 
only  afar  off  the  swelling  canopy  of  smoke,  and  the 
flashes  of  light  through  it,  and  nearer  by  the  grass  and 
the  leaves,  now  hanging  dull  and  lifeless. 

Harley  groaned  again  and  smote  the  unoffending 
window-sill  with  his  hand. 

"Why  am  I  here — why  am  I  here,"  he  repeated, 
"when  the  greatest  battle  of  all  the  world  is  being 
fought?" 

The  clouds  of  smoke  from  the  cannon  and  the 
clouds  from  the  heated  and  heavy  air  continued  to 
gather  in  both  heavens  and  were  now  meeting  at  the 
zenith.  The  skies  were  dark,  obscure  and  somber. 
Most  trying  of  all  was  the  continuous,  heavy  jarring 


2i4  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

sound  made  by  the  thunder  of  the  guns.  It  got  upon 
the  nerves,  it  smote  the  brain  cruelly,  and  once  Helen 
clasped  her  hands  over  her  ears  to  shut  it  out,  but 
she  could  not;  the  sullen  mutter  was  still  there,  no 
less  ominous  because  its  note  was  lower. 

A  sudden  tongue  of  flame  shot  up  in  the  east  above 
the  forest,  but  unlike  the  others  did  not  go  out  again; 
it  hung  there  a  red  spire,  blood-red  against  the  sky, 
and  grew  taller  and  broader. 

"The  forest  burns  !"  murmured  Harley. 

"In  May?"  said  Helen. 

"What  a  cannonade  it  must  be  to  set  green  trees 
on  fire  !"  continued  Harley. 

The  varying  and  shriller  notes  heard  through  the 
steady  roar  of  the  great  guns  now  grew  more  numerous 
and  louder;  and  most  persistent  among  them  was 
a  nasty  buzz,  inconceivably  wicked  in  its  cry. 

"The  rifles !  A  hundred  thousand  of  them  at 
least !"  murmured  Harley,  to  whose  ear  all  these 
sounds  were  familiar. 

New  tongues  of  fire  leaped  above  the  trees  and 
remained  there,  blood-red  against  the  sky;  sparks  at 
first  fugitive  and  detached,  then  in  showers  and 
millions,  began  to  fly.  Columns  of  vapour  and  smoke 
breaking  off  from  the  main  cloud  floated  toward  the 
house  and  assailed  those  at  the  window  until  eyes  and 
nostrils  tingled.  The  strange,  nauseous  odour,  the 
mingled  reek  of  blood  and  dust,  powder  and  human 
sweat  grew  heavier  and  more  sickening. 

Helen  shuddered  again  and  again,  but  she  could  not 
turn  away.  The  whole  look  of  the  forest  had  now 
changed  to  her.  She  saw  it  through  a  red  mist:  all 
the  green,  the  late  green  of  the  new  spring,  was  gone. 
All  things,  the  trees,  the  leaves,  the  grass  and  the 
bushes,  seemed  burnt,  dull  and  dead. 

"Listen!"  cried  Harley.  "Don't  you  hear  that — 
the  beat  of  horses'  feet !  A  thousand,  five  thousand 
of  them !  The  cavalry  are  charging !  But  whose 
cavalry?" 

His  soul  was  with  them.  He  felt  the  rush  of  air  past 
him,  the  strain  of  his  leaping  horse  under  him,  and 
then  the  impact,  the  wild  swirl  of  blood  and  fire  and 


DAY   IN   THE    WILDERNESS  215 

death  when  foe  met  foe.  Once  more  he  groaned  and 
struck  the  window-sill  with  an  angry  hand. 

Nearer  and  nearer  rolled  the  battle  and  louder  and 
shriller  grew  its  note.  The  crackle  of  the  rifles 
became  a  crash  as  steady  as  the  thunder  of  the  great 
guns,  and  Helen  began  to  hear,  above  all  the  sound 
of  human  voices,  cries  and  shouts  of  command.  Dark 
figures,  perfectly  black  like  tracery,  began  to  appear 
against  a  background  of  pallid  smoke,  or  ruddy 
flame,  distorted,  shapeless  even,  and  without  any 
method  in  their  motions.  They  seemed  to  Helen  to 
fly  back  and  forth  and  to  leap  about  as  if  shot  from 
springs  like  jumping-jacks  and  with  as  little  of  life  in 
them — mere  marionettes.  The  great  pit  of  fire  and 
smoke  in  which  they  fought  enclosed  them,  and  to 
Helen  it  was  only  a  pit  of  the  damned.  For  the 
moment  she  had  no  feeling  for  either  side ;  they  were 
not  fellow  beings  to  her — they  who  struggled  there 
amid  the  flame  and  the  smoke  and  the  falling  trees 
and  the  wild  screams  of  the  wounded  horses. 

The  coloured  woman  cowering  in  the  corner  con- 
tinued to  cry  softly,  but  with  deep  sobs  drawn  from 
her  chest,  and  Helen  wished  that  she  would  stop,  but 
she  could  not  leave  the  window  to  rebuke  her  even 
had  she  the  heart  to  do  so. 

The  smoke,  of  a  close,  heavy,  lifeless  quality, 
entered  the  window  and  gathered  in  the  rooms, 
penetrating  everything.  The  floor  and  the  walls  and 
the  furniture  grew  sticky  and  damp,  but  the  three  at 
the  window  did  not  notice  it.  They  had  neither 
eyes  nor  heart  now  save  for  the  tremendous  scene 
passing  before  them.  No  thought  of  personal  danger 
entered  the  mind  of  either  woman.  No,  this  was  a 
somber  but  magnificent  panorama  set  for  them,  and 
they,  the  spectators,  were  in  their  proper  seats.  They 
were  detached,  apart  from  the  drama  which  was  of 
another  age  and  another  land,  and  had  no  concern 
with  them  save  as  a  picture. 

Helen  could  not  banish  from  her  mind  this  pano- 
ramic quality  of  the  battle.  She  was  ashamed  of 
herself;  she  ought  to  draw  from  her  heart  sympathy 
for  those  who  were  falling  out  there,  but  they  were 


216  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

yet  to  her  beings  of  another  order,  and  she  remained 
cold — a  spectator  held  by  the  appalling  character  of 
the  drama  and  not  realizing  that  those  who  played 
the  part  were  human  like  herself. 

"The  battle  is  doubtful,"  said  Harley. 

' '  How  do  you  know  ? ' ' 

"See  how  it  veers  to  and  fro — back  and  forth  and 
back  and  forth  it  goes  again.  If  either  side  were 
winning  it  would  all  go  one  way.  Do  you  know  how 
long  we  have  been  here  watching  ?" 

"I  have  no  idea  whatever." 

He  looked  at  his  watch  and  then  pointed  upward 
at  the  heavens  where  in  the  zenith  a  film  of  light 
appeared  through  the  blur  of  cloud  and  smoke. 

"There's  the  sun,"  he  said;  "it's  noon.  We've  been 
sitting  here  for  hours.  The  time  seems  long  and  again 
it  seems  short.  Ah,  if  I  only  knew  which  way  fortune 
inclined  !  Look  how  that  fire  in  the  forest  is  growing  ! ' ' 

Over  in  the  east  the  red  spires  and  pillars  and 
columns  united  into  one  great  sheet  of  flame  that 
moved  and  leaped  from  tree  to  tree  and  shot  forth 
millions  of  sparks. 

"That  fire  will  not  reach  us,"  said  Harley.  "It 
will  pass  a  half-mile  to  the  right." 

But  they  felt  its  breath,  far  though  hot,  and  again 
Helen  drew  her  handkerchief  across  her  burning  face. 
The  deadly,  sickening  odour  increased.  A  light  wind 
arose,  and  a  fine  dust  of  ashes,  borne  on  its  breath, 
began  to  enter  the  window  and  sweep  in  at  every 
possible  crevice  and  cranny  of  the  old  house.  It 
powdered  the  three  at  the  window  and  hung  a  thin, 
gray  and  pallid  veil  over  the  floor  and  the  scanty 
furniture.  The  faint  jarring  of  the  wood,  so  monoto- 
nous and  so  persistent,  never  ceased.  And  distinctly 
through  the  sounds  they  heard  the  voice  of  the 
coloured  woman,  crying  softly  from  her  chest,  always 
the  same,  weird,  unreal  and  chilling. 

The  struggle  seemed  to  the  three  silent  watchers 
to  swing  away  a  little,  the  sounds  of  human  voices 
died,  the  cries,  the  commands  were  heard  no  more; 
but  the  volume  of  the  battle  grew,  nevertheless. 
Harley  knew  that  new  regiments,  new  brigades,  new 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  217 

batteries  were  coming  into  action;  that  the  area  of 
conflict  was  spreading,  covering  new  fields  and  holding 
the  old.  He  knew  by  the  rising  din,  ever  swelling  and 
beating  upon  the  ear,  by  the  vast  increase  in  the 
clouds  of  smoke,  the  leaping  flashes  of  flame  and  the 
dust  of  ashes,  now  thick  and  drifting,  that  two 
hundred  thousand  men  were  eye  to  eye  in  battle 
amid  the  gloomy  thickets  and  shades  of  the  Wilder- 
ness, but  God  alone  knew  which  would  win. 

Some  of  the  awe  that  oppressed  the  two  women 
began  to  creep  over  Harley  and  to  chill  the  blood  in 
his  veins.  He  had  gone  through  many  battles;  he 
had  been  with  Pickett  in  that  fiery  rush  up  Cemetery 
Hill  in  the  face  of  sixty  thousand  men  and  batteries 
heaped  against  each  other ;  but  there  he  was  a  part  of 
things  and  all  was  before  him  to  see  and  to  hear:  here 
he  only  sat  in  the  dusk  of  the  smoke  and  the  ashes  and 
the  clouds,  while  the  invisible  battle  swung  to  and  fro 
afar.  He  heard  only 'the  beat  of  its  footsteps  as  it 
reeled  back  and  forth,  and  saw  only  the  mingled 
black  and  fiery  mists  and  vapours  of  its  own  making 
that  enclosed  it. 

The  dun  clouds  were  still  rolling  up  from  both 
heavens  toward  the  zenith,  shot  now  and  then  with 
yellow  streaks  and  scarlet  gleams.  Sometimes  they 
threw  back  in  a  red  glare  the  reflection  of  the  burning 
forest,  and  then  again  the  drifting  clouds  of  smoke  and 
ashes  and  dust  turned  the  whole  to  a  solid  and  dirty 
brown.  It  was  now  more  than  a  battle  to  Harley. 
Within  that  cloud  of  smoke  and  flashing  flame  the 
fate  of  a  nation  hung — the  South  was  a  nation  to 
him — and  before  the  sun  set  the  decree  might  be 
given.  He  was  filled  with  woe  to  be  sitting  there 
looking  on  at  so  vast  an  event.  Vain,  selfish  and 
superficial,  depths  in  his  nature  were  touched  at 
last.  This  was  no  longer  a  scene  set  as  at  a  theatre, 
upon  which  one  might  fight  for  the  sake  of  ambition 
or  a  personal  glory.  Suddenly  he  sank  into  insig- 
nificance. The  fortunes  or  the  feelings  of  one  man 
were  lost  in  mightier  issues. 

"It's  coming  back !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham. 

The  battle  again  approached  the  old  house,    the 


218  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

clouds  swept  up  denser  and  darker,  the  tumult  of  the 
rifles  and  the  great  guns  grew  louder;  the  voices,  the 
cries  and  the  commands  were  heard  again,  and  the 
human  figures,  distorted  and  unreal,  reappeared 
against  the  black  or  fiery  background.  To  Helen's 
mind  returned  the  simile  of  a  huge  flaming  pit  in 
which  multitudes  of  little  imps  struggled  and  fought. 
She  was  yet  unable  to  invest  them  with  human 
attributes  like  her  own,  and  the  mystic  and  unreal 
quality  in  this  battle  which  oppressed  her  from  the 
first  did  not  depart. 

"It  is  all  around  us,"  said  Mrs.  Markham. 

Helen  looked  up  and  saw  that  her  words  were 
true.  The  battle  now  made  a  complete  circuit  of  the 
house,  though  yet  distant,  and  from  every  point  came 
the  thunder  of  the  cannon  and  the  rifles,  the  low 
and  almost  rhythmic  tread  of  great  armies  in  mortal 
struggle,  and  the  rising  clouds  of  dust,  ashes  and 
smoke  shot  with  the  rapid  flame  of  the  guns,  like 
incessant  sheet-lightning. 

The  clouds  had  become  so  dense  that  the  battle, 
though  nearer,  grew  dimmer  in  many  of  its  aspects; 
but  the  distorted  and  unreal  human  figures  moved 
like  shadows  on  a  screen  and  were  yet  visible,  spring- 
ing about  and  crossing  and  recrossing  in  an  infinite 
black  tracery  that  the  eye  could  not  follow.  But  to 
neither  of  the  three  did  the  thought  of  fear  yet  come. 
They  were  still  watchers  of  the  arena,  from  high 
seats,  and  the  battle  was  not  to  take  them  in  its 
coils. 

The  flame,  the  red  light  from  the  guns,  grew  more 
vivid,  and  was  so  rapid  and  incessant  that  it  became 
a  steady  glare,  illuminating  the  vast  scene  on  which 
the  battle  was  outspread ;  the  black  stems  of  the  oaks 
and  pines,;  the  guns — some  wheelless  and  broken  now, 
the  charging  lines,  fallen  horses  scattered  in  the 
scrub,  all  the  medley  and  strain  of  a  titanic  battle. 

The  sparks  flew  in  vast  showers.  Bits  of  charred 
wood  from  the  burning  forest,  caught  up  by  the  wind, 
began  to  fall  on  the  thin  roof  of  the  old  house,  and 
kept  up  a  steady,  droning  patter.  The  veil  of  gray 
ashes  upon  the  floor  and  on  the  scanty  furniture  grew 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  219 

thicker.  The  coloured  woman  never  ceased  for  a 
moment  to  cry  drearily. 

"It  is  still  doubtful !  "  murmured  Harley. 

His  keen,  discerning  eye  began  to  see  a  method, 
an  order  in  all  this  huge  tumult — signs  of  a  design,  and 
of  another  design  to  defeat  it — the  human  mind 
seeking  to  achieve  an  end.  One  side  was  the  North 
and  another  the  South — but  which  was  his  own  he 
could  not  tell.  For  the  present  he  knew  not  where 
to  place  his  sympathies,  and  the  fortunes  of  the 
battle  were  all  unknown  to  him. 

He  looked  again  at  his  watch.  Mid-afternoon. 
Hours  and  hours  had  passed  and  still  the  doubtful 
battle  hung  on  the  turning  of  a  hair ;  but  his  study  of 
it,  his  effort  to  trace  its  fortune  through  all  the  intri- 
cate maze  of  smoke  and  flame,  did  not  cease.  He 
sought  to  read  the  purposes  of  the  two  master  minds 
which  marshaled  their  forces  against  each  other,  to 
evolve  order  from  chaos  and  to  read  what  was  written 
already. 

Suddenly  he  uttered  a  low  cry.  He  could  detect 
now  the  colour  of  the  uniforms.  There  on  the  right 
was  the  gray,  his  own  side,  and  Harley 's  soul  dropped 
like  lead  in  water.  The  gray  were  yielding  slowly, 
almost  imperceptibly,  but  nevertheless  were  yielding. 
The  blue  masses  were  pouring  upon  them  continually, 
heavier  and  heavier,  always  coming  to  the  attack. 

Harley  glanced  at  the  women.  They,  too,  saw  as 
he  saw.  He  read  it  in  the  deathly  pallor  of  their 
faces,  their  lips  parted  and  trembling,  the  fallen  look 
of  their  eyes.  It  was  not  a  mere  spectacle  now — 
something  to  gaze  at  appalled,  not  because  of  the 
actors  in  it,  but  because  of  the  spectacle  itself.  It  was 
beginning  now  to  have  a  human  interest,  vital  and 
terrible — the  interest  of  themselves,  their  friends 
and  the  South  to  which  they  belonged. 

Helen  suddenly  remembered  a  splendid  figure  that 
had  ridden  away  from  her  window  that  morning — 
the  figure  of  the  man  who  alone  had  come  to  bid  her 
good-by,  he  who  had  seemed  to  her  a  very  god  of 
war  himself;  and  she  knew  he  must  be  there  in  that 
flaming  pit  with  the  other  marionettes  who  reeled 


220  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

back  and  forth  as  the  master  minds  hurled  fresh 
legions  anew  to  the  attack.  If  not  there,  one  thing 
alone  had  happened,  and  she  refused  to  think  of  that, 
though  she  shuddered;  but  she  would  not  picture 
him  thus.  No;  he  rode  triumphant  at  the  head  of  his 
famous  brigade,  sword  in  hand,  bare  and  shining, 
and  there  was  none  who  could  stand  before  its  edge. 
It  was  with  pride  that  she  thought  of  him,  and  a 
faint  blush  crept  over  her  face,  then  passed  quickly 
like  a  mist  before  sunshine. 

The  battle  shifted  again  and  the  faces  of  the  three 
who  watched  at  the  window  reflected  the  change  in  a 
complete  and  absolute  manner.  The  North  was 
thrust  back,  the  South  gained — a  few  feet  perhaps, 
but  a  gain  nevertheless,  and  joy  shone  on  the 
faces  where  pallor  and  fear  had  been  before.  To 
the  two  women  this  change  would  be  permanent. 
They  could  see  no  other  result.  The  North  would  be 
thrown  back  farther  and  farther,  overwhelmed  in 
rout  and  ruin.  They  looked  forward  to  it  eagerly 
and  in  fancy  saw  it  already.  The  splendid  legions 
of  the  South  could  not  be  beaten. 

But  no  such  thoughts  came  to  Harley.  He  felt  all 
the  joy  of  a  momentary  triumph,  but  he  knew  that 
ths  fortune  of  the  battle  still  hung  in  doubt.  Strain 
eye  and  ear  as  he  would,  he  could  see  no  decrease  in 
the  tumult  nor  any  decline  in  the  energy  of  the  figures 
that  fought  there,  an  intricate  tracery  against  the 
background  of  red  and  black.  The  afternoon  was 
waning,  and  his  ears  had  grown  so  used  to  the  sounds 
without  that  he  could  hear  everything  within  the 
house.  The  low,  monotonous  crying  of  the  coloured 
woman  was  as  distinct  as  if  there  were  no  battle  a 
half-mile  away. 

The  dense  fine  ashes  crept  into  their  throats  and  all 
three  coughed  repeatedly,  but  did  not  notice  it,  having 
no  thought  for  anything  save  for  what  was  passing 
before  them.  They  were  powdered  with  it,  face,  hair 
and  shoulders,  until  it  lay  over  them  like  a  veil,  but 
they  did  not  know  nor  care. 

The  battle  suddenly  changed  again  and  the  South 
was  pressed  back  anew.  Once  more  their  faces  fell, 


DAY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  221 

and  the  hearts  of  the  women,  raised  to  such  heights, 
sank  to  the  depths.  It  was  coming  nearer,  too. 
There  was  a  fierce  hiss,  a  shrill  scream  and  something 
went  by. 

"A  shell  passed  near  us  then,"  said  Harley,  "and 
there's  another.  The  battle  is  swinging  close." 

Still  the  element  of  fear  did  not  enter  into  the 
minds  of  any  of  the  three,  not  even  into  those  of  the 
women,  although  another  shell  passed  by  and  then 
others,  all  with  a  sharp,  screaming  note,  full  of 
malignant  ferocity.  Then  they  ceased  to  come  and 
the  battle  again  hovered  in  the  distance,  growing 
redder  and  redder  than  ever  against  a  black  back- 
ground as  the  day  darkened  and  the  twilight 
approached.  Its  sound  now  was  a  roar  and  a  hum — 
many  varying  notes  blending  into  a  steady  clamour, 
which  was  not  without  a  certain  rhythm  and  music — 
like  the  simultaneous  beating  of  a  million  mighty 
bass  drums. 

"They  still  press  us  back,"  murmured  Harley;  "the 
battle  is  wavering." 

With  the  coming  of  the  twilight  the  light  in  the 
forest  of  scrub  oaks  and  pines,  the  light  from  so  many 
cannon  and  rifles,  assumed  vivid  and  unearthly 
hues,  tinged  at  the  edges  with  a  yellow  glare  and  shot 
through  now  and  then  with  blue  and  purple  streaks. 
Over  it  hung  the  dark  and  sullen  sky. 

"It  comes  our  way  again,"  said  Harley. 

It  seemed  now  to  converge  upon  them  from  all 
sides,  to  contract  its  coils  like  a  python,  but  still 
the  house  was  untouched,  save  by  the  drifting  smoke 
and  ashes.  Darker  and  darker  the  night  came 
down,  a  black  cap  over  all  this  red  struggle,  but  with 
its  contrast  deepening  the  vivid  colours  of  the  combat 
that  went  on  below. 

Nearer  it  came,  and  suddenly  some  horsemen  shot 
from  the  flame-cloud  and  stood  for  a  moment  in  a 
huddled  group,  as  if  they  knew  not  which  way  to 
turn.  They  were  outlined  vividly  against  the  red 
battle  and  their  uniforms  were  gray.  Even  Helen 
could  see  why  they  hesitated  and  doubted.  Riderless 
horses  galloped  out  of  the  smoke  and,  with  the  curious 


222  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

attraction  that  horses  have  for  the  battlefield,  hovered 
near,  their  empty  saddles  on  their  backs. 

A  groan  burst  from  Harley. 

"My  God,"  he  cried,  "those  cavalrymen  are  going 
to  retreat !" 

Then  he  saw  something  that  struck  him  with  a 
deeper  pang,  though  he  was  silent  for  the  moment. 
He  knew  those  men.  Even  at  the  distance  many  of 
the  figures  were  familiar. 

"My  own  troop !"  he  gasped.  "Who  could  have 
thought  it?" 

Then  he  added,  in  sad  apology:  "They  need  a 
leader." 

The  horsemen  were  still  in  doubt,  although  they 
seemed  to  drift  backward  and  away  from  the  field  of 
battle.  A  fierce  passion  lay  hold  of  Harley  and 
inflamed  his  brain.  He  saw  his  own  men  retreating 
when  the  fate  of  the  South  hung  before  them.  He 
thought  neither  of  his  wounds  nor  of  the  two  women 
beside  him,  one  his  sister.  Springing  to  his  feet 
while  they  tried  in  vain  to  hold  him  back,  he  cried 
out  that  he  had  lingered  there  long  enough.  He 
threw  off  their  clinging  hands,  ran  to  the  door,  blood 
from  his  own  wounds  streaking  his  clothes,  and  they 
saw  him  rush  across  the  open  space  toward  the  edge 
of  the  forest  where  the  horsemen  yet  lingered.  They 
saw  him,  borne  on  by  excitement,  seize  one  of  the 
riderless  horses,  leap  into  the  saddle  and  turn  his  face 
toward  the  battle.  They  almost  fancied  that  they 
could  hear  his  shout  to  his  troops:  "Come  on,  men; 
the  way  is  here,  not  there  !" 

The  horse  he  had  seized  was  that  of  a  slain  bugler, 
and  the  bugle,  tied  by  a  string  to  the  horn  of  the 
saddle,  still  hung  there.  Harley  lifted  it  to  his  lips, 
blew  a  note  that  rose,  mellow  and  inspiring,  above  all 
the  roar  of  the  cannon  and  the  rifles,  and  then,  at  the 
head  of  his  men,  rode  into  the  heart  of  the  battle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NIGHT   IN  THE   WILDERNESS 

The  two  women  clasped  hands  again  and  looked  at 
each  other  as  Harley  disappeared  amid  the  smoke. 

"  He  has  left  us, "  said  Mrs.  Markham. 

"Yes,  but  he  has  gone  to  his  country's  need, "  said 
his  sister  proudly. 

Then  they  were  silent  again.  Night,  smoky, 
cloudy  and  dark,  thick  with  vapours  and  mists,  and 
ashes  and  odours  that  repelled,  was  coming  down 
upon  the  Wilderness.  Afar  in  the  east  the  fire  in  the 
forest  still  burned,  sending  up  tongues  of  scarlet  and 
crimson  over  which  sparks  flew  in  myriads.  Nearer 
by,  the  combat  went  on,  its  fury  undimmed  by  the 
darkness,  its  thunder  as  steady,  as  persistent  and 
terrible  as  before. 

Helen  was  struck  with  horror.  The  battle,  weird 
enough  in  the  day,  was  yet  more  so  in  the  darkness, 
and  she  could  not  understand  why  it  did  not  close 
with  the  light.  It  partook  of  an  inhuman  quality, 
and  that  scene  out  there  was  more  than  ever  to  her 
an  inferno  because  the  flaming  pit  was  now  enclosed 
by  outer  blackness,  completely  cut  off  from  all  else — 
a  world  to  itself  in  which  all  the  passions  strove,  and 
none  could  tell  to  which  would  fall  the  mastery. 

She  felt  for  the  moment  horror  of  both  sides,  North 
and  South  alike,  and  she  wished  only  that  the  unnat- 
ural combat  would  cease;  she  did  not  care  then — a 
brief  emotion,  though — which  should  prove  the  victor. 

It  was  a  dark  and  solemn  night  that  came  down  over 
the  Wilderness  and  the  two  hundred  thousand  who 
had  fought  all  day  and  still  fought  amid  its  thickets. 
Never  before  had  that  thin,  red  soil — redder  now — 
borne  such  a  crop,  and  many  were  glad  that  the  dark- 
ness hid  the  sight  from  their  enemies.  The  two 
Generals,  the  master  minds  who  had  propelled  their 
mighty  human  machines  against  each  other,  were 

223 


224  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

trying  to  reckon  their  losses — with  the  battle  still  in 
progress — and  say  to  themselves  whether  they  had 
won  or  lost.  But  this  battlefield  was  no  smooth  and 
easy  chessboard  where  the  pawns  might  be  moved  as 
one  wills  and  be  counted  as  they  fell,  but  a  wilderness 
of  thickets  and  forests  and  hills  and  swamps  and 
valleys  where  the  vast  lines  bent  or  twisted  or  inter- 
laced and  were  lost  in  the  shades  and  the  darkness. 
Count  and  reckon  as  they  would,  the  two  Generals, 
equal  in  battle,  face  to  face  for  the  first  time — could 
not  give  the  total  of  the  day.  It  was  still  an  unadded 
sum,  and  the  guns,  despite  the  night,  were  steadily 
contributing  new  figures.  This  was  the  flaw  in  their 
arithmetic ;  nothing  was  complete,  and  they  saw  that 
they  would  have  to  begin  again  to-morrow.  So,  with 
this  day's  work  yet  unfinished,  they  began  to  prepare, 
sending  for  new  regiments  and  brigades,  massing  more 
cannon,  and  planning  afresh. 

But  all  these  things  were  unknown  to  Helen  as  she 
sat  there  at  the  window  with  Mrs.  Markham.  Her 
thoughts  wandered  again  to  Wood,  that  splendid 
figure  on  horseback,  and  she  sought  to  identify  him 
there  among  the  black  marionettes  that  gyrated 
against  the  red  background.  But  with  the  advance 
of  night  the  stage  was  becoming  more  indistinct, 
the  light  shed  over  it  more  pallid  and  shifting, 
and  nothing  certain  could  be  traced  there.  All  the 
black  figures  were  mixed  in  a  confused  whirl,  and 
where  stood  the  South  and  where  the  North  neither 
Helen  nor  Mrs.  Markham  could  tell. 

The  night  was  thick  and  hot,  rank  with  vapours 
and  mists  and  odours  that  oppressed  throat  and 
nostrils.  The  wind  seemed  to  have  died,  but  the 
fine  dust  of  ashes  still  fell  and  the  banks  of  nauseous 
smoke  floated  about  aimlessly. 

New  fear  assailed  the  two  women  for  the  first  time 
— not  so  much  fear  of  the  shells  and  the  bullets,  but 
of  the  night  and  its  mysteries  and  the  weird,  combat 
that  was  still  going  on  there  where  the  light  was  so 
pallid  and  uncertain.  Once  again  those  who  fought 
had  become  for  them  unreal — not  human  beings, 
but  imps  in  an  inferno  of  their  own  creation. 


./ 
NIGHT   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         az$ 

They  wished  now  that  Harley  was  still  with  them. 
Whatever  else  he  might  be,  he  was  ,brave  and  he 
would  defend  them.  They  looked  around  fearfully 
at  the  shadows  that  were  encroaching  upon  the  house. 
The  rain  of  ashes  and  dust  began  to  annoy  them,  and 
they  moved  a  little  closer  to  each  other. 

Helen  glanced  back  once.  The  inside  of  the  house 
was  now  in  total  darkness,  and  out  of  it  came  the 
monotonous  wailing  of  the  black  woman .  It  occurred 
suddenly  to  Helen  that  the  servant  had  crouched 
there  crying  the  whole  day  long.  But  she  said 
nothing  to  her  and  turned  her  back  to  the  window. 

"  It  is  dying  now, "  said  Mrs.  Markham. 

The  dull  red  light  suddenly  contracted  and  then 
broke  into  intermittent  flashes.  The  sound  of  the 
cannon  and  the  rifles  sank  into  the  low  muttering  of 
distant  thunder.  The  two  women  felt  the  house 
under  them  cease  to  tremble.  Then  the  intermittent 
flashes,  too,  disappeared,  the  low  rumbling  died  away 
like  the  echo  of  a  distant  wind,  and  a  sudden  and 
complete  silence,  mystic  and  oppressive  in  its  solem- 
nity, fell  over  the  Wilderness.  Only  afar  the  burning 
forest  glowed  like  a  torch. 

The  silence  was  for  awhile  more  terrifying  than 
the  battle  to  which  they  had  grown  used.  It  hung 
over  the  forest  and  them  like  something  visible 
that  enfolded  them.  They  breathed  a  hot,  damp  air 
heavy  with  ashes  and  smoke  and  dust,  and  their 
pulses  throbbed  painfully  in  their  temples.  Around 
them  all  the  time  was  that  horrible  deathlike  pall  of 
silence. 

They  spoke,  and  their  voices,  attuned  before  to  the 
roar  of  the  battle,  sounded  loud,  shrill  and  threat- 
ening. Both  started,  then  laughed  weakly. 

"Is  it  really  over?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham, 
hysterically. 

"Until  to-morrow,"  replied  Helen,  with  solemn 
prevision. 

She  turned  to  the  inner  blackness  of  the  house  and 
lighted  a  candle,  which  she  placed  on  the  table,  where 
it  burned  with  an  unsteady  yellow  light,  illuminating 
the  centre  of  the  room  with  a  fitful  glow,  but  leaving 


226  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

the  corners  still  in  darkness.  Everything  lay  under 
its  veil  of  ashes — the  table,  the  floor,  and  the  bed  on 
which  Harley  had  slept. 

Helen  felt  a  strange  sort  of  strength,  the  strength 
of  excitement  and  resolve.  She  shook  the  black 
woman  by  the  arm  and  bade  her  bring  food. 

"We  must  eat,  for  we  shall  have  work  to  do,"  she 
said  to  Mrs.  Markham,  and  nodded  her  head  toward 
the  outside. 

It  was  the  task  of  but  a  few  minutes,  and  then  the 
two  women  prepared  to  go  forth.  They  knew  they 
would  be  needed  on  this  night,  and  they  listened  to 
hear  the  ominous  sounds  that  would  be  a  call  to  them. 
But  they  heard  nothing.  There  was  the  same  dead, 
oppressive  stillness.  Not  a  leaf,  not  a  blade  of  grass 
seemed  to  stir.  Helen  looked  once  more  from  the 
window.  Afar  in  the  east  the  forest  still  burned,  but 
the  light  there  was  pallid,  grayish,  more  of  the  quality 
of  moonlight  than  of  fire,  and  looked  dim.  Directly 
before  her  in  the  forest  where  the  battle  had  been  all 
was  black,  silent  and  impenetrable.  It  was  true 
there  were  faint  lights  here  and  there  as  of  torches 
that  had  burned  badly,  but  they  were  pin-points, 
serving  only  to  deepen  the  surrounding  blackness. 
Once  or  twice  she  thought  she  saw  figures  moving 
slowly,  but  she  was  not  sure.  She  heard  nothing. 

Helen  was  in  an  unreal  world.  An  atmosphere 
new,  fiery  and  surcharged  surrounded  her,  and  in  its 
heat  little  things  melted  away.  Only  the  greater 
remained.  That  life  in  Richmond,  bright  and  gay 
in  many  of  its  aspects,  lived  but  a  few  days  since,  was 
ages  and  ages  ago;  it  belonged  to  another  world. 
Now  she  was  in  the  forest  with  the  battle  and  the 
dead,  and  other  things  did  not  count. 

The  door  stood  wide  open,  and  as  Helen  prepared 
to  go  another  woman  entered  there,  a  woman  young 
like  herself,  tall,  wrapped  in  a  long  brown  cloak,  but 
bareheaded.  Two  or  three  stray  locks,  dark  but 
edged  with  red  gold,  strayed  down.  Her  face,  clear 
and  feminine  though  it  was,  seemed  to  Helen  stronger 
than  any  other  woman's  face  that  she  had  ever  seen. 

Helen  knew  instinctively  that  this  was  a  woman 


NIGHT   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         227 

of  the  North,  or  at  least  one  with  the  North,  and  her 
first  feeling  was  of  hostility.  So,  as  the  two  stood 
looking  at  each  other,  her  gaze  at  first  was  marked 
by  aversion  and  defiance.  Who  was  she  who  had 
come  with  the  other  army,  and  why  should  she  be 
there  ? 

But  Lucia  Catherwood  knew  both  the  women  in  the 
old  house.  She  remembered  a  day  in  Richmond 
when  this  girl,  in  lilac  and  rose,  so  fair  a  representative 
of  her  South,  welcomed  a  gallant  general;  and  she 
remembered  another,  a  girl  of  the  same  years,  lonely, 
an  outcast  in  the  farthest  fringe  of  the  crowd — herself. 
Her  first  emotion,  too,  was  hostility,  mingled  with 
another  feeling  closely  akin  to  it.  She  had  seen  her 
with  Prescott,  and  unwillingly  had  confessed  them 
well  matched.  She,  too,  asked  what  this  woman  was 
doing  here  in  the  forest  beside  the  battle;  but  these 
feelings  had  only  a  short  life  with  her.  There  were 
certain  masculine  qualities  in  Lucia  Catherwood  that 
tended  to  openness  and  frankness.  She  advanced 
and  offered  her  hand  like  a  man  to  Helen. 

"We  come  under  different  flags,"  she  said,  "but 
we  cannot  be  enemies  here;  we  must  be  friends  at 
least  to-night,  and  I  could  wish  that  it  should  always 
be  so." 

Her  smile  was  so  frank,  so  open,  so  engaging  that 
Helen,  whose  nature  was  the  same,  could  resist  her 
no  longer.  Despite  herself  she  liked  this  girl,  so  tall, 
so  strong,  with  that  clear,  pure  face  showing  a  self- 
reliance  such  as  she  had  never  before  seen  on  the 
face  of  a  woman.  Mrs.  Markham  yet  hung  back  a 
little,  cool,  critical  and  suspicious,  but  presently  she 
cast  this  manner  from  her  and  spoke  as  if  Lucia 
Catherwood  was  her  friend,  one  of  long  and  approved 
standing. 

"  I  think  that  bur  work  is  to  be  the  same,"  said 
Helen  simply,  and  the  other  bowed  in  silent  assent. 
Then  the  three  went  forth. 

The  field  of  battle,  or  rather  the  portion  of  it  which 
came  nearest  to  them — it  wound  for  miles  through 
the  thickets — lay  a  half-mile  from  the  house  under  the 
solid  black  veil  of  a  cloudy  night,  the  forest,  and  the 


228  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

smoke  that  yet  drifted  about  aimlessly.  Outside  the 
house  the  strange,  repellent  odours  grew  stronger, 
as  if  it  were  the  reek  of  some  infernal  pit. 

They  advanced  over  open  ground,  and  the  field  of 
conflict  was  still  black  and  soundless,  though  there 
was  a  little  increase  in  the  lights  that  moved  dimly 
there.  The  smoke  assailed  them  again,  and  fine 
ashes  from  the  distant  fire  in  the  east  now  and  then 
fell  upon  them.  But  they  noticed  none  of  these 
things,  still  advancing  with  steady  step  and  unshrink- 
ing faces  toward  the  forest. 

The  twinkling  lights  increased  and  sounds  came  at 
last.  Helen  would  not  say  to  herself  what  they  were. 
She  hoped  that  her  fancy  deceived  her ;  but  the  three 
women  did  not  stop.  Helen  looked  at  the  tall, 
straight  young  figure  beside  her,  so  strong,  so  self- 
reliant,  and  she  drew  strength  from  her  companion 
— now  she  was  such.  They  walked  side  by  side,  and 
Mrs.  Markham  came  behind.  Helen  began  to  feel 
the  influence  of  a  personality,  a  will  stronger  than  her 
own,  and  she  yielded  to  it  without  further  question 
and  without  reluctance,  having  the  feeling  that  she 
had  known  this  girl  a  long  time. 

The  trembling  lights  of  the  forest  increased,  moving 
about  like  so  many  fireflies  in  the  night ;  the  nauseous 
odours  grew  heavier,  more  persistent,  and  for  a 
moment  Helen  felt  ill ;  her  head  began  to  spin  around 
at  the  thought  of  what  she  was  going  to  see,  but 
quickly  she  recovered  herself  and  went  on  by  the  side 
of  the  girl  who- never  faltered.  Helen  wondered  at 
such  courage,  and  wondering,  she  admired. 

The  ground  grew  rougher,  set  with  tiny  hillocks 
and  stones  and  patch  after  patch  of  scrub  bushes. 
Once  Helen  stumbled  against  something  that  felt  cold 
even  through  the  leather  of  her  shoe,  and  she  shud- 
dered. But  it  was  only  a  spent  cannon  ball  lying 
peacefully  among  the  bushes,  its  mission  ended. 

They  reached  burnt  ground — spots  where  the  scanty 
grass  or  the  bushes  had  been  set  on  fire  by  the  cannon 
or  the  rifles.  Many  places  still  burned  slowly  and 
sent  up  languid  sparks  and  dull  smoke.  In  othei 
places  the  ground  was  torn  as  if  many  ploughs  had 


NIGHT   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         229 

been  run  roughly  over  it,  and  Helen  knew  that  the 
shells  and  the  cannon  balls  had  passed  in  showers. 
There  were  other  objects,  too,  lying  very  quiet,  but 
she  would  not  look  at  them,  though  they  increased 
fast  as  they  went  on,  lying  like  seed  sown  above 
ground. 

They  were  at  the  edge  of  the  forest  now,  and  here 
the  air  was  thicker  and  darker.  The  mists  and 
vapours  floated  among  the  trees  and  lay  like  warm, 
wet  blankets  upon  their  faces.  They  saw  now 
many  moving  figures,  some  bending  down  as  if  they 
would  lift  something  from  the  earth,  and  others  who 
held  lights.  Occasionally  they  passed  women  like 
themselves,  but  not  often.  Some  of  the  men  were  in 
gray  uniform  and  some  in  blue,  but  they  passed  and 
repassed  each  other  without  question,  doing  the  work 
they  had  come  there  to  do. 

Here  in  the  forest  the  area  of  burnt  ground  was 
larger,  and  many  coils  of  smoke  rose  languidly  to  join 
the  banks  of  it  that  towered  overhead.  The  still 
objects,  too,  were  lying  as  far  as  one  could  see,  in 
groups  here,  somewhat  scattered  there,  but  the  con- 
tinuity never  broken,  many  with  their  faces  upturned 
to  the  sky  as  if  they  awaited  placidly  the  last  call. 
Helen  was  struck  by  this  peace,  this  seeming  confi- 
dence in  what  was  to  come.  The  passage,  then,  had 
not  been  so  hard  !  Here,  when  she  stood  in  the  centre 
of  it  all,  the  old  feelings  of  awe  returned,  and  the  real 
world,  the  world  that  she  had  known  before  this  day, 
swung  farther  and  farther  away. 

There  was  still  but  little  noise,  for  those  who  yet 
lived  were  silent,  waiting  patiently,  and  the  vast  peace 
was  more  powerful  in  its  impression  upon  the  mind 
than  any  tumult  could  have  been.  Helen  looked  up 
once  at  the  skies.  They  were  black  and  overcast. 
But  few  stars  twinkled  there.  It  was  a  fit  canopy 
for  the  Wilderness,  the  gloomy  forest  that  bore  such 
a  burden.  From  a  far  point  in  the  southwest  came 
the  low  rumble  of  thunder,  and  lightning,  like  the 
heat-lightning  of  a  summer  night,  glimmered  fitfully. 
Then  there  was  a  faint,  sullen  sound,  the  report  of  a 
distant  cannon  shot.  Helen  started,  more  in  anger 


230  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

than  terror.  Would  they  fight  again  at  such  a  time  ? 
She  felt  blame  for  both,  but  the  shot  was  not  repeated 
then.  A  signal  gun,  she  thought,  and  went  on, 
unconsciously  going  where  the  strong  young  figure 
of  Lucia  Catherwood  led  the  way.  She  heard 
presently  another  distant  cannon  shot,  its  solemn 
echoes  rolling'  all  around  the  horizon,  but  she  paid  no 
heed  to  it .  Her  mind  was  now  for  other  things . 

An  inky  sky  overhung  the  battlefield  and  all  it 
held.  Those  nights  in  the  Wilderness  were  among 
the  blackest  in  both  ways  this  country  has  ever 
known.  Brigades  and  batteries  moving  in  the  dense 
scrub,  seeking  better  places  for  the  fresh  battle  on  the 
morrow,  wandered  sometimes  through  each  other's 
lines.  Soldiers,  not  knowing  whether  they  were 
among  friends  or  enemies,  and  not  caring,  drank  in 
the  darkness  from  the  same  streams,  and,  over- 
powered by  fatigue,  North  and  South  alike  often 
slept  a  soundless  sleep  under  trees  not  fifty  yards 
from  one  another;  but  the  two  Generals,  who 
were  the  supreme  expression  of  the  genius  of  either 
side,  never  slept.  They  had  met  for  the  first  time; 
each  nearly  always  a  victor  before,  neither  had  now 
won.  The  result  yet  to  come  lay  hidden  in  the  black 
Wilderness,  and  by  smoking  camp-fires  they  planned 
for  the  next  day,  knowing  well  that  they  would 
meet  again  in  a  combat  fiercer,  longer  and  deadlier 
than  ever,  the  one  always  seeking  to  drive  on,  the 
other  always  seeking  to  hold  him  back. 

The  Wilderness  enclosed  many  secrets  that  night, 
hiding  dead  and  living  alike.  Many  of  the  fallen 
lay  unseen  amid  the  ravines  and  hollows,  and  the 
burning  forest  was  their  funeral  pyre.  Never  did  the 
Wilderness  more  deserve  its  name;  gloomy  at  any 
time,  it  had  new  attributes  of  solemn  majesty. 
Everything  seemed  to  be  in  unison  with  those  who 
lay  there — the  pitchy  blackness,  the  low  muttering  of 
distant  thunder,  the  fitful  glimmer  of  the  lightning, 
the  stems  of  trees  twisted  and  contorted  by  the 
gleam  of  the  uncertain  flashes,  the  white  faces  of 
the  slain  upturned  to  the  sky  seen  dimly  by  the  same 
light,  the  banks  of  smoke  and  vapour  yet  floating 


NIGHT   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         231 

through  the  forest,  the  strange,  repellent  odours,  and 
the  heavy,  melancholy  silence. 

Those  who  had  come  upon  the  field  after  the  night 
began  worked  without  talk,  the  men  from  either  side 
passing  and  repassing  each  other,  but  showing  no 
hostility.  The  three  women,  too,  began  to  help  them, 
doing  the  errand  upon  which  they  had  come,  and  their 
service  was  received  without  question  and  without 
comment.  No  one  asked  another  why  he  was  there ; 
his  duty  lay  plain  before  him. 

It  was  Lucia  Catherwood  who  took  the  lead,  neither 
Helen  nor  Mrs.  Markham  disputing  her  fitness  for 
the  place,  too  apparent  to  all  to  be  denied ;  it  was  she 
who  never  flinched,  who,  if  she  spoke  at  all,  spoke 
words  of  cheer,  whose  strength  and  courage  seemed 
never  to  fail. 

Thus  the  hours  passed,  and  the  character  of  the 
night  in  the  Wilderness  did  not  change.  There  was 
yet  compared  with  the  tumult  of  the  day  a  heavy, 
oppressive  silence;  the  smoke  and  the  vapours  did 
not  go  away,  the  heavy  atmosphere  did  not  thin,  and 
at  intervals  the  distant  thunder  rumbled  and  the  fitful 
lightning  glared  over  a  distorted  forest. 

The  three  worked  in  silence,  like  those  around  them, 
faithful,  undaunted.  Mrs.  Markham,  the  cynical  and 
worldly,  was  strangely  changed,  perhaps  the  most 
changed  of  the  three;  all  her  affectations  were  gone, 
and  she  was  now  only  an  earnest  woman.  And  while 
the  three  worked  they  always  watched  for  one  man. 
And  this  man  was  not  the  same  with  any  one  of  the 
three. 

It  was  past  midnight  and  Helen  did  not  know  how 
long  she  had  been  upon  the  battlefield,  working  as 
she  did  in  a  kind  of  a  dream,  or  rather  mist,  in  which 
everything  was  fanciful  and  unreal,  with  her  head  full 
of  strange  sights  and  unheard  sounds,  when  she 
saw  two  men  ride  side  by  side  and  silently  out  of  the 
black  forest — two  figures,  one  upright,  powerful,  the 
other  drooping,  with  head  that  swayed  slightly  from 
side  to  side. 

She  knew  them  at  once  despite  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  and  the  faint  moonlight — and  it  was  what  her 


232  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

thoughts  had  told  her  would  come  true.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  her  that  the  one  who  sat  in  the  saddle  so 
erect  and  so  powerful  could  fall ;  nor  had  he. 

She  and  Mrs.  Markham  advanced  to  meet  them. 
Harley's  head  swayed  slightly  from  side  to  side,  and 
his  clothing  showed  red  in  the  dim  moonlight.  Wood 
held  him  in  the  saddle  with  one  hand  and  guided  the 
two  horses  with  the  other.  Both  women  were  white 
to  the  lips,  but  it  was  Helen  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  expected  you, "  she  said  to  Wood. 

Wood  replied  that  Harley  was  not  hurt  save  by 
exhaustion  from  his  previous  wounds.  He  had  come, 
too,  at  a  critical  moment,  and  his  coming  had  been 
worth  much  to  the  South.  But  now  he  was  half 
unconscious;  he  must  rest  or  die.  The  General  spoke 
in  simple  words,  language  that  one  would  have  called 
dialect,  but  Helen  did  not  think  of  those  things;  his 
figure  was  grander  than  ever  before  to  her,  because, 
despite  the  battle,  he  had  remembered  to  bring  back 
her  brother. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  quiet,  saying  no  word,  but  she 
went  with  them  to  the  house,  where  Harley  was 
placed  on  the  very  bed  on  which  he  had  slept  the 
night  before.  Lucia  Catherwood  did  not  turn  back, 
and  was  left  alone  on  the  field,  but  she  was  neither 
afraid  nor  lonely.  She,  too,  was  looking  for  some 
one — one  whom  she  was  in  dread  lest  she  find  and 
whom  she  wished  to  find  nevertheless.  But  she 
had  a  feeling — how  or  whence  it  came  she  did  not 
know — that  she  would  find  him  there.  Always  while 
she  helped  the  others,  hour  after  hour,  she  looked  for 
him,  glancing  into  every  ravine  and  hollow,  and 
fieglecting  no  thicket  or  clump  of  bushes  that  she 
passed.  She  believed  that  she  would  know  him  if 
she  saw  but  the  edge  of  his  coat  or  his  hand. 

At  last  she  reached  the  fringe  of  the  battlefield. 
The  fallen  forms  were  fewer  and  the  ground  less  torn 
by  the  tramplings  of  men  and  horses  and  the  wheels 
of  guns,  though  the  storm  had  passed,  leaving  its  track 
of  ruin.  Here,  too,  were  burned  spots,  the  grass  still 
smouldering  and  sending  up  tiny  sparks,  a  tree  or  two 
twisted  out  of  shape  and  half -consumed  by  flames;  a 


NIGHT  IN   THE   WILDERNESS         233 

broken  cannon,  emblem  of  destruction,  lying  wheelless 
on  the  ground.  Lucia  looked  back  toward  the  more 
populous  field  of  the  fallen  and  saw  there  the  dim 
lights  still  moving,  but  decreasing  now  as  the  night 
waned.  Low,  blurred  sounds  came  to  her  ears.  As 
for  herself,  she  stood  in  the  darkness,  silvered  dimly 
by  a  faint  moonlight,  a  tall,  lithe  young  figure,  self- 
reliant,  unafraid. 

She  began  now  to  search  every  hollow,  to  look 
among  the  bushes  and  the  ravines.  She  had  heard 
from  men  of  his  own  company  that  he  was  missing, 
and  she  would  not  turn  back  while  he  was  unfound. 
It  was  for  this  that  she  had  come,  and  he  would  need 
her. 

She  was  on  the  farthest  rim  of  the  battlefield, 
where  the  lights  when  she  looked  back  were  almost 
lost,  and  it  seemed  to  be  enclosed  wholly  by  the  dark- 
ness and  the  vapours.  No  voice  came  from  it,  but 
in  the  forest  before  her  were  new  sounds — a  curious 
tread  as  of  many  men  together  stepping  lightly,  the 
clanging  of  metal,  and  now  and  then  a  neigh  coming 
faintly.  This,  she  knew,  were  the  brigades  and  the 
batteries  seeking  position  in  the  darkness  for  a  new 
battle;  but  she  was  not  afraid. 

Lucia  Catherwood  was  not  thinking  then  of  the 
Wilderness  nor  of  the  vast  tragedy  that  it  held,  but  of 
a  flight  one  snowy  night  from  a  hostile  capital,  a 
flight  that  was  not  unhappy  because  of  true  com- 
panionship. Formed  amid  hard  circumstances,  hers 
was  not  a  character  that  yielded  quickly  to  sentiment, 
but  when  the  barriers  were  broken  down  she  gave 
much. 

She  heard  a  tread  in  the  brushwood.  Some  horses, 
saddles  on  and  bridles  hanging — their  riders  lost,  she 
well  knew  how — galloped  near  her,  looked  at  her  a 
moment  or  two  with  wide  eyes,  and  then  passed  on. 
Far  to  the  right  she  heard  a  faint  cannon  shot.  If 
they  were  going  to  fight  again,  why  not  wait  until  the 
next  day  ?  It  could  not  be  done  in  all  this  darkness. 
A  blacker  night  she  had  never  seen. 

She  came  to  a  tiny  valley,  a  mere  cup  in  the  bleak, 
red  ridges,  well  set  with  rich  green  grass  as  if  more 


234  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

fertile  soil  had  gathered  there,  but  all  torn  and 
trampled,  showing  that  one  of  the  fiercest  eddies  of 
the  battle  had  centred  in  this  spot.  At  the  very  edge 
lay  two  horses  with  their  outstretched  necks  crossed 
united  in  death.  In  the  trampled  grass  lay  other 
dark  figures  which  she  could  not  pass  without  a 
shudder. 

She  paused  here  a  moment  because  it  seemed  to  be 
growing  darker.  The  low  rumble  of  thunder  from 
the  far  western  horizon  came  again,  all  the  more 
threatening  because  of  its  faintness  and  distance. 
The  lightning  gleamed  a  moment  and  by  its  quick 
flash  she  saw  the  one  she  was  seeking. 

He  lay  at  the  far  edge  of  the  little  valley  where  the 
grass  had  grown  richest  and  tallest,  and  he  was  almost 
hidden  by  the  long  stems.  It  was  his  face  that  she 
saw  first,  white  and  still  in  the  lightning's  glare,  but 
she  did  not  believe  that  he  was  dead.  Ah  !  that  could 
not  happen. 

Raising  his  head  in  her  arms,  she  rested  it  upon  her 
knee,  moistening  his  lips  with  water  that  she  carried 
in  a  flask.  She  was  a  strong  woman,  both  physically 
and  mentally,  far  beyond  the  average  of  her  sex,  and 
now  she  would  not  yield  to  any  emotion.  No;  she 
would  do  what  it  was  necessary  to  do,  and  not  until 
then  would  she  even  put  her  finger  upon  his  wrist  to 
find  if  the  pulse  were  still  beating. 

The  wound  was  on  the  side  of  the  head,  under  the 
hair,  and  she  remembered  afterward  how  glad  she 
was  that  the  scar  would  always  be  hidden  by  the  hair. 
Strong  enough  to  examine  the  nature  of  the  injury, 
she  judged  that  it  had  been  done  by  a  fragment  of 
shell,  and  she  believed  that  the  concussion  and  loss 
of  blood,  rather  than  any  fatal  wound,  had  caused 
Prescott's  fall. 

As  she  drew  away  the  hair,  washed  the  wound  and 
bound  it  up  with  a  strip  from  her  own  dress,  she  was 
filled  with  a  divine  gladness.  Not  only  was  she  doing 
that  which  she  wished  most  to  do,  but  she  was  making 
repayment.  He  would  have  died  there  had  she  not 
found  him,  and  no  one  else  would  have  found  him  in 
that  lone  spot. 


NIGHT   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         235 

Not  yet  did  she  seek  to  move  him  or  to  bring  help. 
She  would  have  him  to  herself  for  awhile — would 
watch  over  him  like  a  mother,  and  she  could  do  as 
much  as  any  surgeon.  She  was  glad  Helen  and  the 
other  woman  had  turned  aside,  for  she  alone  had 
found  him.  No  one  else  could  claim  a  share  in  saving 
him.  He  was  for  the  time  hers  and  hers  alone,  and 
in  this  she  rejoiced. 

As  his  pulse  was  growing  stronger  she  knew  that 
he  would  live.  No  doubt  of  it  now  occurred  to  her 
mind,  and  she  was  still  happy.  The  battle  of  the  day 
that  was  gone  and  of  the  day  that  was  to  come,  and  all 
the  thousands,  the  living  and  the  fallen,  were  alike 
forgotten.  She  remembered  only  him. 

Again  came  the  tramp  of  riderless  horses,  and  for  a 
moment  she  was  in  dread — not  for  herself,  but  for 
him — but  again  they  turned  and  passed  her  by. 
When  the  low,  threatening  note  of  the  cannon  shot 
came  once  more  she  trembled  lest  the  battle  be 
renewed  in  the  darkness  and  surge  over  this  spot ;  but 
silence  only  followed  the  report.  Misty  forms  filed 
past  in  the  thicket.  They  were  in  blue,  a  regiment 
of  her  own  people  passing  in  the  darkness.  She 
crouched  low  in  the  grass,  holding  his  head  upon  her 
knees,  hiding  again,  not  for  herself,  but  for  him.  She 
would  not  have  him  a  prisoner,  but  preferred  to 
become  one  herself,  and  cared  nothing  for  it.  This 
was  repayment.  His  pulse  was  growing  stronger 
and  stronger  and  he  uttered  half-spoken  words  while 
his  head  moved  slightly  upon  her  knees. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  she  had  been  there,  and 
she  looked  back  again  toward  the  field.  It  was  now 
wholly  in  darkness,  then  lighted  dimly  by  a  fitful 
flash  of  lightning.  She  must  carry  him  to  shelter, 
and  without  taking  thought,  she  tried  to  lift  him  in 
her  arms.  He  was  heavy,  lying  like  lead,  and  she 
put  him  down  again,  but  very  softly.  She  must  go 
for  help.  Then  she  heard  once  more  the  tread  of 
those  riderless  horses  and  feared  for  him.  She  could 
not  leave  him  there  alone.  She  made  a  mighty 
effort,  lifted  him  in  her  arms,  and  staggered  toward 
the  battlefield. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    SECRETARY    LOOKS    ON 

The  old  house  in  the  woods  which  still  lay  within 
the  Confederate  lines  became  a  hospital  before  morn- 
ing, and  when  General  Wood  turned  away  from  it 
he  beheld  a  woman  staggering  through  the  darkness, 
carrying  a  strange  burden.  It  was  Lucia  Catherwood, 
and  when  she  came  nearer  he  knew  that  the  burden 
was  a  man.  He  saw  then  that  the  girl's  expression 
was  one  that  he  had  never  before  seen  on  the  face  of 
woman.  As  he  ran  forward  she  gasped : 

"Take  him;  it  is  Captain  Prescott !" 

Full  of  wonder,  but  with  too  much  delicacy  under 
his  rough  exterior  to  ask  questions,  the  mountaineer 
lifted  Prescott  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  into  the 
house,  where  he  was  placed  on  the  bed  beside  Harley, 
who  was  unconscious,  too.  Lucia  Catherwood  fol- 
lowed alone.  She  had  been  borne  up  by  the  impulse 
of  excessive  emotion,  but  she  was  exhausted  now  by 
her  mighty  effort.  She  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint — she  who  had  never  fainted  in  her  life — and 
leaned  against  the  outside  wall  of  the  house,  dizzy 
and  trembling.  Black  shadows,  not  those  of  the 
night,  floated  before  her  eyes,  and  the  house  moved 
away ;  but  she  recovered  herself  in  a  few  moments  and 
went  in. 

Improvised  beds  and  cots  were  in  every  room,  and 
many  of  the  wounded  lay  on  the  floor,  too.  Mixed 
with  them  were  some  in  blue  just  as  on  the  other  side 
of  the  battlefield  were  some  in  gray  mixed  with  the 
blue.  There  was  a  powerful  odour  of  drugs,  of 
antiseptics,  and  Helen  and  Mrs.  Markham  were  tear- 
ing cloth  into  strips. 

Prescott  lay  a  long  time  awaiting  his  turn  at  the 
surgeon's  hands — so  long  that  it  seemed  to  Lucia 
236 


THE   SECRETARY   LOOKS   ON          237 

Catherwood  it  would  never  come;  but  she  stayed  by 
his  side  and  did  what  she  could,  though  conscious 
that  both  Mrs.  Markham  and  Helen  were  watching 
her  at  times  .with  the  keenest  curiosity,  and  perhaps 
a  little  hostility.  She  did  not  wonder  at  it;  her 
appearance  had  been  so  strange,  and  was  still  so 
lacking  in  explanation,  that  they  could  not  fail,  after 
the  influence  of  the  battlefield  itself  had  somewhat 
passed,  to  be  curious  concerning  her.  But  she  added 
nothing  to  what  she  had  said,  doing  her  work  in 
silence. 

The  surgeon  came  at  last  and  looked  at  Prescott's 
head  and  its  bandages.  He  was  a  thin  man  of  middle 
age,  and  after  his  examination  he  nodded  in  a  satis- 
fied way. 

"You  did  this,  I  suppose,"  he  said  to  Lucia — it  was 
not  the  first  woman  whom  he  had  seen  beside  a 
wounded  man.  When  she  replied  in  the  affirmative, 
he  added : 

"I  could  not  have  done  better  myself.  He's  suffering 
chiefly  from  concussion,  and  with  good  nursing  he'll 
be  fit  for  duty  again  in  a  few  weeks.  You  can  stay 
with  him,  I  suppose  ?  You  look  strong,  and  women 
are  good  for  such  work." 

"Yes;  I  will  stay  with  him,"  she  replied,  though 
she  felt  a  sudden  doubt  how  she  should  arrange  to 
do  so. 

The  surgeon  gave  a  few  instructions  and  passed  on — 
it  was  a  busy  night  for  him  and  all  his  brethren,  and 
they  could  not  linger  over  one  man.  Lucia  still  sat 
by  the  side  of  Prescott,  applying  cooling  bandages, 
according  to  the  surgeon's  instructions,  and  no  one 
sought  to  interfere  with  her.  . 

The  house,  which  contained  so  many  wounded, 
was  singularly  quiet.  Hardly  one  of  them  groaned. 
There  was  merely  the  sound  of  feet  moving  softly. 
Two  or  three  lights  burned  very  low.  Outside  was 
the  same  silence  and  darkness.  Men  came  in  or 
went  away  and  the  others  took  no  notice. 

A  man  entered  presently,  a  slender  man,  of  no 
particular  presence,  with  veiled  eyes,  it  seemed  to 
Lucia,  and  she  observed  that  his  coming  created  a 


238  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

faint  rustle  of  interest,  something  that  had  not 
happened  with  any  other.  He  was  not  in  uniform, 
and  his  first  glance  was  for  Helen  Harley.  Then  he 
came  toward  Lucia  and,  bending  down,  looked  keenly 
at  the  face  of  her  patient. 

"It  is  Captain  Prescott,"  he  said.  "I  am  sorry. 
Is  he  badly  hurt  ?" 

"No,"  she  replied;  "he  is  suffering  chiefly  from 
concussion,  the  surgeon  says,  and  will  be  well  again 
in  two  or  three  weeks." 

"With  good  nursing?" 

"Yes,  with  good  nursing."  She  glaced  up  in  a  little 
surprise. 

Revelation,  comprehension,  resolve,  shot  over 
James  Sef ton's  face.  He  was  genuinely  pleased,  and 
as  he  glanced  at  Lucia  Catherwood  again  her  answer- 
ing gaze  was  full  of  understanding. 

"Your  name  is  Lucia  Catherwood,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  without  surprise. 

"It  does  not  matter  how  I  knew  it,"  he  continued; 
"it  is  sufficient  that  I  do  know  it.  I  know  also  that 
you  are  the  best  nurse  Robert  Prescott  could  have." 

Her  look  met  his,  and,  despite  herself,  the  deep  red 
dyed  her  face,  even  her  neck.  There  was  a  swift 
look  of  admiration  on  the  Secretary's  face.  Then  he 
smiled  amiably.  He  had  every  reason  to  feel  amiable. 
He  realized  now  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
Prescott 's  rivalry  with  Helen  Harley  so  long  as  Lucia 
Catherwood  was  near.  Then  why  not  keep  her  near  ? 

"You  are  to  be  his  nurse,"  he  continued,  "and  you 
must  have  the  right  to  go  through  our  lines,  even  to 
Richmond  if  necessary.  Here  is  a  pass  for  you." 

He  took  pencil  and  paper  from  his  pocket  and 
wrote  an  order  which  he  handed  to  her. 

The  Secretary's  next  concern  was  for  Harley,  and 
he  spoke  in  low  tones  of  him  to  Mrs.  Markham  and 
his  sister.  He  had  heard  of  his  heroic  charge  at  a 
critical  moment — of  a  man  rising  from  his  bed  of 
wounds  to  lead  back  his  wavering  regiment ;  the  army 
was  ringing  with  it.  In  the  new  republic  such  a 
hero  should  have  a  great  reward.  Helen  flushed 
with  pleasure,  but  Mrs.  Markham,  shrewder  and 


THE    SECRETARY   LOOKS   ON          239 

keener,  said  nothing.  Her  own  husband,  unhurt, 
came  an  hour  later,  and  he  was  proud  of  his  wife  at 
work  there  among  the  wounded.  The  Secretary 
stayed  a  long  while,  and  Lucia  felt  at  times  that  he  was 
watching  her  with  an  eye  that  read  her  throughout; 
but  when  she  saw  him  looking  at  Helen  Harley  she 
thought  she  knew  the  reason  of  his  complacency. 
She,  too,  was  acute. 

The  Secretary  brought  news  of  the  battle,  and  as  he 
prophesied  that  the  next  day  would  be  bloodier  than 
the  one  just  closed,  he  glanced  through  the  window 
at  the  black  Wilderness  with  real  awe  upon  his  face. 

Lucia  followed  his  look,  and  despite  herself  she 
felt  a  certain  pride.  This  general,  who  struck  so 
hard  and  never  ceased  striking,  was  her  general. 
She  had  known  that  it  would  be  so,  but  these  people 
about  her  had  not  known  it  until  now.  She  felt  in 
her  heart  that  the  end  was  coming,  but  she  knew  it 
would  be  over  the  roughest  road  ever  traveled  by  a 
victorious  army. 

She  formed  plans,  too,  as  she  sat  there,  and  was 
thankful  for  the  pass  that  she  concealed  in  her  dress. 
No  matter  how  it  had  come,  she  had  it  and  it  was 
all-powerful.  She  did  not  fear  this  Secretary  whom 
others  seemed  to  fear.  If  necessary  she  would  go  to 
Richmond  again,  and  she  would  there  join  her  cousin, 
Miss  Grayson,  her  nearest  living  relative,  who  could 
now  give  her  protection  that  no  one  :ould  question. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  young  man 
whose  face  and  manner  she  liked  came  in  and  looked 
at  Prescott.  He  showed  deep  concern,  and  then 
relief,  when  assured  that  the  wound  was  not  serious. 
His  name  was  Talbot — Thomas  Talbot,  he  said — and 
he  was  a  particular  friend  of  Prescott's.  He  gave 
Lucia  one  or  two  glances,  but  in  a  few  moments  he 
went  away  to  take  his  part  in  the  next  day's  battle. 

Lucia  dozed  a  little  by  and  by,  her  sleep  being  filled 
with  strange  dreams.  She  was  awakened  by  a  low, 
distant  sound,  one  that  the  preceding  day  had  made 
familiar — the  report  of  a  cannon  shot.  She  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  it  was  still  so  dark  that  the 
forest,  but  a  short  distance  away,  was  invisible. 


24o  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"They  have  begun  early,"  she  murmured. 

She  saw  Prescott  stir  as  if  he  had  heard  a  call,  and 
his  eyes  half  opened.  Then  he  made  an  effort  to 
move,  but  she  put  her  hand  gently  upon  his  forehead 
and  he  sank  back  to  rest.  She  saw  in  his  half-open 
eyes  a  fleeting  look  of  comprehension,  gratitude  and 
joy,  then  the  eyes  closed  again,  and  he  floated  off  once 
more  into  the  land  of  peace  where  he  abode  for  the 
present.  Lucia  felt  singularly  happy  and  she  knew 
why,  for  so  engrossed  was  she  in  Prescott  that  she 
scarcely  heard  the'  second  cannon  shot,  replying  to 
the  first.  There  came  others,  all  faint  and  far,  but 
each  with  its  omen.  The  second  day's  battle  had 
begun. 

The  supreme  commanders  of  either  side  were  now 
ready.  Human  minds  had  never  been  more  busy 
than  theirs  had  been.  Grant  was  still  preparing  to 
attack;  no  thought  of  failure  entered  his  resolute 
soul.  If  he  did  not  succeed  to-day,  then  he  would 
succeed  on  the  next  day  or  next  week  or  next  month ; 
he  would  attack  and  never  cease  attacking.  Lee 
stood  resolutely  in  his  path,  resolved  to  beat  him 
back,  not  only  on  this  line,  but  on  every  other  line, 
always  bringing  up  his  thinning  brigade  for  a  new 
defense. 

The  Wilderness  still  held  secrets  for  both,  but  they 
intended  to  solve  them  that  day,  to  see  which  way 
the  riddle  ran,  and  the  Wilderness  itself  was  as  dark, 
as  calm  and  as  somber  as  ever.  It  had  been  torn  by 
cannon  balls,  pierced  by  rifle  bullets  and  scorched 
by  fire ;  but  the  two  armies  were  yet  buried  in  it  and 
it  gave  no  sign  to  the  world  outside. 

In  the  house,  despite  the  wounded,  there  was  deep 
attention  and  a  concern  that  nothing  could  suppress. 
The  scattered  cannon  shots  blended  into  a  steady 
thunder  already,  but  it  was  distant  and  to  the  watch- 
ers told  nothing.  The  darkness,  too,  was  still  so 
great  that  they  could  see  no  flashes. 

The  Secretary,  mounted  on  an  Accomack  pony, 
rode  out  of  the  woods  and  looked  a  little  while  at  the 
house,  then  turned  away  and  continued  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  new  battle.  He  was  in  a  good  humour 


THE   SECRETARY   LOOKS   ON          241 

that  morning,  smiling  occasionally  when  no  one  could 
see.  The  combat  already  begun  did  not  trouble 
Mr.  Sefton,  although  it  was  his  business  there  to  see 
how  it  was  going  and  supplement,  or,  rather,  precede, 
the  General's  reports  with  such  news  as  he  could 
obtain,  and  so  deft  a  mind  as  his  could  obtain  much. 
Yet  he  was  not  worried  over  either  its  progress  or  its 
result.  He  had  based  his  judgment  on  calculations 
made  long  ago  by  a  mind  free  from  passion  or  other 
emotion  and  as  thoroughly  arithmetical  as  a  human 
mind  can  be,  and  he  had  seen  nothing  since  to  change 
the  estimates  then  formed. 

When  he  thought  how  they  missed  Jackson  it 
was  with  no  intention  of  depreciating  Wood.  Both 
were  needed,  and  he  knew  that  the  mountain  General 
would  be  wherever  the  combat  was  fiercest  that  day. 
And  then,  he  might  not  come  back !  The  Secretary 
pondered  over  this  phase  of  the  matter.  He  had 
been  growing  suspicious  of  late,  and  Wood  was  a  good 
general,  but  he  was  not  sure  that  he  liked  him.  But 
pshaw !  There  was  nothing  to  dread  in  such  a  crude, 
rough  mountaineer. 

He  glanced  to  the  left  and  saw  there  the  heads  of 
horses  and  horsemen  rising  and  falling  like  waves  as 
they  swept  over  the  uneven  ground.  He  believed 
them  to  be  Wood's  troopers,  and,  taking  his  field- 
glass,  he  studied  the  figure  that  rode  at  their  head.  It 
was  Wood,  and  the  Secretary  saw  that  they  were 
about  to  strike  the  Northern  flank.  He  was  not  a 
soldier,  but  he  had  an  acute  mind  and  a  keen  eye  for 
effect.  He  recognized  at  once  the  value  of  the 
movement,  the  instinct  that  had  prompted  it  and 
the  unflinching  way  in  which  it  was  being  carried  out. 
"Perhaps  Wood  will  fall  there!  He  rides  in  the 
very  van,"  he  thought,  but  immediately  repented, 
because  his  nature  was  large  enough  to  admit  of 
admiration  for  a  very  brave  man. 

The  sun  shone  through  the  clouds  a  little  and 
directly  upon  the  point  in  the  Northern  lines  where 
Wood  was  aiming  to  strike,  and  the  Secretary  watched 
intently.  He  saw  the  ranks  of  horsemen  rising  and 
falling  quickly  and  then  pausing  for  a  second  or  two 


242  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

before  hurling  themselves  directly  upon  the  Northern 
flank.  He  saw  the  flash  of  sabers,  the  jets  of  white 
smoke  from  rifle  or  pistol,  and  then  the  Northern  line 
was  cut  through.  But  new  regiments  came  up, 
threw  themselves  upon  the  cavalry,  and  all  were 
mingled  in  a  wild  pell-mell  among  the  thickets  and 
through  the  forests.  Clouds  of  smoke,  thick  and 
black,  settled  down,  and  horse  and  foot,  saber  and 
gun  were  hidden  from  the  Secretary. 

"Stubborn!  As  stubborn  as  death!"  he  mur- 
mured; "but  the  end  is  as  certain  as  the  setting  of 
the  sun." 

Turning  his  horse,  he  rode  to  a  new  hill,  from 
which  he  made  another  long  and  careful  examination. 
Then  he  rode  a  mile  or  two  to  the  rear  and  stopped 
at  a  small  improvised  telegraph  station,  whence  he 
sent  three  brief  telegrams.  The  first  was  to  President 
Jefferson  Davis  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  in 
Richmond;  the  others,  somewhat  different  in  nature, 
were  for  two  great  banking  houses — one  in  London, 
the  other  in  Paris — and  these  two  despatches  were 
to  be  forwarded  from  a  seaport  by  the  quickest 
steamer. 

This  business  despatched,  Mr.  Sefton,  rubbing  his 
hands  with  pleasure,  rode  back  toward  the  battle. 

A  figure,  black-bearded,  gallant  and  large,  came 
within  the  range  of  his  glasses.  It  was  Wood,  and 
the  Secretary  breathed  a  little  sigh  of  sorrow.  The 
General  had  come  safely  out  of  the  charge  and  was 
still  a  troublesome  entity,  but  Mr.  Sefton  checked 
himself.  General  Wood  was  a  brave  man,  and  he 
could  respect  such  splendid  courage  and  ability. 

Thinking  deeply  on  the  way  and  laying  many  plans, 
he  turned  his  pony  and  rode  back  toward  the  house 
which  was  still  outside  the  area  of  battle,  and  the 
Secretary  judged  that  it  would  not  come  within  it  on 
that  day  at  least.  More  than  one  in  that  log  structure 
waited  to  hear  what  news  he  would  bring. 

Prescott,  shortly  after  daylight,  had  opened  his 
ears  to  a  dull,  steady,  distant  sound,  not  unpleasant, 
and  his  eyes  to  a  wonderful,  luminous  face — a  face 


THE   SECRETARY  LOOKS  ON          243 

that  he  knew  and  which  he  once  had  feared  he  might 
never  see  again. 

"Lucia  Catherwood!"  he  said. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,"  she  replied  softly,  so  softly  that  no 
one  else  could  hear. 

"  I  think  that  you  must  have  found  me  and  brought 
me  here, "  he  said.  An  intuition  had  told  him  this. 

She  answered  evasively :  "  You  are  not  hurt  badly. 
It  was  a  piece  of  shell,  and  the  concussion  did  the 
harm." 

Prescott  looked  a  question.  "You  will  stay  by 
me?"  his  eyes  said  to  her  as  plain  as  day. 

"  Yes,  I  will  stay  by  you,"  was  her  positive  reply  in 
the  same  language. 

Then  he  lay  quite  still,  for  his  head  was  dull  and 
heavy;  but  it  was  scarcely  an  ache,  and  he  did  not 
suffer  pain.  Instead,  a  soothing  content  pervaded 
his  entire  system  and  he  felt  no  anxiety  about  any- 
thing. He  tried  to  remember  his  moments  of  uncon- 
sciousness, but  his  mind  went  back  only  to  the 
charge,  the  blow  upon  the  head,  and  the  fall. 
There  everything  had  stopped,  but  he  was  still  sure 
that  Lucia  Catherwood  had  found  him  and  somehow 
had  brought  him  here.  He  would  have  died  without 
her,  of  that  he  had  no  doubt,  and  by  and  by  he 
should  learn  about  it  all. 

Men  came  into  the  house  and  went  away,  but  he 
felt  no  curiosity.  That  part  of  him  seemed  to  be 
atrophied  for  the  present,  but  after  awhile  something 
aroused  his  interest.  It  was  not  any  of  the  men  or 
women  who  passed  and  repassed,  but  that  curious, 
dull,  steady,  distant  sound  which  had  beat  softly  upon 
his  ears  the  moment  he  awoke.  He  remembered 
now  that  it  had  never  ceased,  and  it  began  to  trouble 
him,  reminding  him  of  the  buzzing  of  flies  on  a  summer 
afternoon  when  he  was  a  boy  and  wanted  to  sleep. 
He  wondered  what  it  was,  but  his  brain  was  still  dulled 
•and  gave  no  information.  He  tried  to  forget  but 
could  not,  and  looked  up  at  Lucia  Catherwood  for 
explanation,  but  she  had  none  to  offer. 

He  wished  to  go  to  sleep,  but  the  noise — that  soft 
but  steady  drumming  on  the  ear — would  not  let  him. 


244  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

His  desire  to  know  grew  and  became  painful.  He 
closed  his  eyes  in  thought  and  it  came  to  him  with 
sudden  truth — it  was  the  sound  of  guns,  cannon  and 
rifles.  The  battle,  taken  up  where  it  was  left  off  the 
night  before,  was  going  on. 

North  and  South  were  again  locked  in  mortal  strife, 
and  the  Wilderness  still  held  its  secret,  refusing  to 
name  the  victor.  Prescott  felt  a  sudden  pang  of  dis- 
appointment. He  knew  the  straits  of  the  South;  he 
knew  that  she  needed  every  man,  and  he  was  lying 
there  helpless  on  a  bed  while  the  persistent  Grant 
was  hammering  away  and  would  continue  to  hammer 
away  as  no  general  before  him  had  done.  He  tried 
to  move,  but  Lucia  put  her  cool  hand  upon  his  fore- 
head. That  quieted  him,  but  he  still  listened  intently 
to  the  sound  of  battle,  distinguishing  with  a  trained 
ear  the  deep  note  of  the  cannon  and  the  sharper  crash 
of  the  rifle.  All  waited  anxiously  for  the  return  of 
the  Secretary,  confident  that  he  would  come  and 
confident  that  he  would  bring  true  news  of  the  battle's 
fortunes.  It  required  but  a  short  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Sefton  to  produce  upon  every  one  the  impression 
that  he  was  a  man  who  saw. 

The  morning  had  not  been  without  pleasure  to 
Prescott.  His  nurse  seemed  to  know  everything  and 
to  fear  nothing.  Lucia  understood  her  peculiar 
position.  She  had  a  full  sense  that  she  was  an  out- 
sider, but  she  did  not  intend  to  go  away,  being 
strongly  fortified  by  the  feeling  that  she  was  making 
repayment.  Once  as  she  sat  by  Prescott,  Helen 
came,  too,  and  leaned  over  him.  Lucia  drew  away 
a  little  as  if  she  would  yield  to  another  who  had  a 
better  claim,  but  Helen  would  not  have  it  so. 

"Do  not  go,"  she  said.     "He  is  yours,  not  mine." 

Lucia  did  not  reply,  but  a  tacit  understanding 
arose  between  the  two  women,  and  they  were  drawn 
toward  each  other  as  friends,  since  there  was  nothing 
to  divide  them. 

The  Secretary  at  that  moment  was  riding  slowly 
toward  the  house,  turning  now  and  then  to  look  at 
the  battle  which  yet  hung  in  doubt,  in  its  vast  canopy 


THE   SECRETARY   LOOKS   ON          245 

of  smoke.  He  studied  it  with  keen  eyes  and  a  keener 
mind,  but  he  could  yet  make  nothing  of  it,  and  could 
give  no  news  upon  his  arrival  at  the  house. 

The  long  day  waned  at  last,  but  did  not  bring  with 
its  shadows  any  decrease  in  the  violence  of  the  battle. 
Its  sound  was  never  absent  for  a  moment  from  the  ears 
of  those  in  the  house,  and  the  women  at  the  windows 
saw  the  great  pyramid  of  flame  from  the  forest  fire, 
but  their  anxiety  was  as  deep  as  ever.  No  word  came 
to  indicate  the  result.  Night  fell,  close,  heavy  and 
black,  save  where  the  forest  burned,  and  suddenly  the 
battle  ceased. 

News  came  at  length  that  the  South  had  held  her 
lines.  Grant  had  failed  to  break  through  the  iron 
front  of  Lee.  A  battle  as  bloody  as  Gettysburg  had 
been  fought  and  nothing  was  won;  forty  thousand 
men  had  been  struck  down  in  the  Wilderness,  and 
Grant  was  as  far  as  ever  from  Richmond. 

The  watchers  in  the  house  said  little,  but  they 
rejoiced — all  save  Lucia  Catherwood,  who  sat  in 
silence.  However  the  day  might  have  ended,  she 
did  not  believe  the  campaign  had  ended  with  it,  and 
her  hope  continued. 

A  messenger  arrived  in  haste  the  next  day.  The 
house  must  be  abandoned  by  all  who  could  go. 
Grant  had  turned  on  his  left  flank  and  was  advancing 
by  a  new  road.  The  Southern  army  must  also  turn 
aside  to  meet  him. 

It  was  as  Lucia  Catherwood  expected.  Meade,  a 
victor  at  Gettysburg,  had  not  attacked  again.  Grant, 
failing  in  the  Wilderness,  moved  forward  to  fight 
within  three  days  another  battle  as  great. 

The  story  of  either  army  was  the  same.  The 
general  in  his  tent  touched  the  spring  that  set  all 
things  in  motion.  The  soldiers  rose  from  the  hot 
ground  on  which  they  lay  in  a  stupor  rather  than 
sleep.  Two  streams  of  wounded  poured  to  the  rear, 
one  to  the  North  and  one  to  the  South.  The  horses, 
like  their  masters,  worn  and  scarred  like  them,  too, 
were  harnessed  to  cannon  and  wagon;  the  men  ate 
as  they  worked;  there  was  no  time  for  delay.  This 
was  to  be  a  race,  grand  and  terrible  in  its  nature,  with 


246  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

great  battles  as  incidents.  The  stakes  were  high,  and 
the  players  played  with  deadly  earnestness. 

Both  Generals  sent  orders  to  hurry  and  themselves 
saw  that  it  was  done.  The  battle  of  yesterday  and 
the  day  before  was  as  a  thing  long  past;  no  time  to 
think  of  it  now.  The  dead  were  left  for  the  moment 
in  the  Wilderness  as  they  had  fallen.  The  air  was 
filled  with  commands  to  the  men,  shouts  to  the 
horses,  the  sough  of  wheels  in  the  mud,  the  breaking 
of  boughs  under  weight,  and  the  clank  of  metal. 
The  Wilderness,  torn  now  by  shells  and  bullets  and 
scorched  by  the  fires,  waved  over  two  armies 
gloomier  and  more  somber  than  ever,  deserving  to 
the  full  its  name. 

They  were  still  in  the  Wilderness,  and  it  had  lost 
none  of  its  ominous  aspects.  Far  to  left  and  right  yet 
burned  the  forest  fires  set  by  the  shells,  flaring 
luridly  in  the  intense  blackness  that  characterized 
those  nights.  The  soldiers  as  they  hurried  on  saw 
the  ribbons  and  coils  of  flame  leaping  from  tree-top  to 
tree-top,  and  sometimes  the  languid  winds  blew  the 
ashes  in  their  faces.  Now  and  then  they  crossed 
parts  of  the  forest  where  it  had  passed,  and  the  earth 
was  hot  to  their  feet.  Around  them  lay  smoulder- 
ing logs  and  boughs,  and  from  these  fallen  embers 
tongues  of  flame  arose.  Overhead,  the  moon  and 
stars  were  shut  out  by  the  clouds  and  smoke  and 
vapour. 

Even  with  a  passion  for  a  new  conflict  rising  in 
them,  the  soldiers  as  they  hurried  on  felt  the  weird- 
ness,  the  satanic  character  of  the  battleground.  The 
fitful  flashes  of  lightning  often  showed  faces  stamped 
with  awe ;  wet  boughs  of  low-growing  trees  held  them 
back  with  a  moist  and  sticky  touch ;  the  low  rumble 
of  thunder  came  from  the  far  horizon  and  its  tremen- 
dous echo  passed  slowly  through  the  Wilderness ;  and 
mingled  again  with  this  sound  was  an  occasional 
cannon  shot  as  the  fringes  of  the  two  armies  hasten- 
ing on  passed  the  time  of  night. 

The  tread  of  either  army  was  heavy,  dull  and 
irregular,  and  the  few  torches  they  carried  added 
little  light  to  the  glare  of  the  lightning  and  the  glow 


THE   SECRETARY   LOOKS  ON          247 

of  the  burning  forest.  The  two  marched  on  in  the 
dark,  saying  little,  making  little  noise  for  numbers 
so  great,  but  steadily  converging  on  Spottsylvania, 
where  they  were  destined  to  meet  in  a  conflict  rival- 
ing in  somber  grandeur  that  of  the  past  two  days. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A    DELICATE    SITUATION 

The  wounded  and  those  who  watched  them  in  the 
old  house  learned  a  little  of  the  race  through  the  dark- 
ness. The  change  of  the  field  of  combat,  the  struggle 
for  Spottsylvania  and  the  wheel-about  of  the 
Southern  army  would  leave  them  in  the  path  of  the 
North,  and  they  must  retreat  toward  Richmond. 

The  start  next  morning  was  through  a  torn  and  rent 
Wilderness,  amid  smoke  and  vapours,  with  wounded 
in  the  wagons,  making  a  solemn  train  that  wound  its 
way  through  the  forest,  escorted  on  either  flank  by 
troopers,  commanded  by  Talbot,  slightly  wounded 
in  the  shoulder.  The  Secretary  had  gone  again  to 
look  on  at  the  battle. 

It  was  thus  that  Lucia  Catherwood  found  herself 
on  the  way,  of  her  own  free  will,  to  that  Richmond 
from  which  she  had  recently  escaped  with  so  much 
trouble.  There  was  no  reason,  real  or  conventional, 
why  she  should  not  go,  as  the  precious  pass  from  the 
Secretary  removed  all  danger ;  and  there  in  Richmond 
was  Miss  Grayson,  the  nearest  of  her  blood.  Helen 
removed  the  last  misgiving. 

"You  will  go  with  us?     We  need  you,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lucia  simply;  "I  shall  go  to  Rich- 
mond. I  have  a  relative  there  with  whom  I  can  stay 
until  the  end  of  the  war." 

Helen  was  contented  with  this.  It  was  not  a  time 
"to  ask  questions.  Then  they  rode  together.  Mrs. 
Markham  was  with  them,  quiet  and  keen-eyed. 
Much  of  the  battle's  spell  had  gone  from  her,  and  she 
observed  everything,  most  of  all  Lucia  Catherwood. 
She  had  noticed  how  the  girl's  eyes  dwelled  upon 
Prescott,  the  singular  compound  of  strength  and 
tenderness  in  her  face,  a  character  at  once  womanly 
248 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  249 

and  bold,  and  the  astute  Mrs.  Markham  began  to 
wonder  where  these  two  had  met  before ;  but  she  said 
nothing  to  any  one. 

Prescott  was  in  a  wagon  with  Harley.  Fate  seemed 
to  have  linked  for  awhile  these  two  who  did  not 
particularly  care  for  each  other.  Both  were  con- 
scious, and  Prescott  was  sitting  up,  refreshed  by  the 
air  upon  his  face,  a  heavy  and  noxious  atmosphere 
though  it  was.  So  much  of  his  strength  had  returned 
that  he  felt  bitter  regret  at  being  unable  to  take  part 
in  the  great  movement  which,  he  had  gathered,  was 
going  on,  and  it  was  this  feeling  which  united  him  and 
Harley  for  the  time  in  a  common  bond  of  sympathy ; 
but  the  latter  presently  spoke  of  something  else : 

"That  was  a  beautiful  girl  who  replaced  your 
bandage  this  morning,  Prescott.  Upon  my  honour, 
she  is  one  of  the  finest  women  I  ever  saw,  and  she 
is  going  with  us,  I  hear.  Do  you  know  anything 
about  her?" 

Prescott  did  not  altogether  like  Harley "s  tone,  but 
he  knew  it  was  foolish  to  resent  it  and  he  replied : 

"She  is  Miss  Lucia  Catherwood,  a  relative  of  Miss 
Charlotte  Grayson,  who  lives  in  Richmond,  and  whom 
I  presume  she  is  going  there  to  join.  I  have  seen 
Miss  Catherwood  once  or  twice  in  Richmond." 

Then  he  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Harley  was 
unable  to  draw  from  him  any  more  information;  but 
Prescott,  watching  Lucia,  saw  how  strong  and  helpful 
she  was,  doing  all  she  could  for  those  who  were  not  her 
own.  A  woman  with  all  a  woman's  emotions  and 
sympathies,  controlled  by  a  mind  and  body  stronger 
than  those  of  most  women,  bhe  was  yet  of  the  earth, 
real  and  substantial,  ready  to  take  what  it  contained 
of  joy  or  sorrow.  This  was  one  of  her  qualities  that 
most  strongly  attracted  Prescott,  who  did  not  like  the 
shadowy  or  unreal.  Whilst  he  was  on  the  earth  he 
wished  to  be  of  it,  and  he  preferred  the  sure  and  strong 
mind  to  the  misty  and  dreamy. 

He  wished  that  she  would  come  again  to  the  wagon 
in  which  he  rode,  but  now  she  seemed  to  avoid  him — 
to  be  impelled,  as  it  were,  by  a  sense  of  shyness 
or  a  fear  that  she  might  be  thought  unfeminine. 


250  BEFORE  THE  DAWN 

Thus  he  found  scant  opportunity  during  the  day  to 
talk  to  her  or  even  to  see  her,  as  she  remained  nearly 
all  the  time  in  the  rear  of  the  column  with  Helen 
Harley. 

Harley's  vagrant  fancy  was  caught.  He  was 
impressed  by  Lucia's  tall  beauty,  her  silence,  her  self- 
possession,  and  the  mystery  of  her  presence.  He 
wished  to  discover  more  about  her,  who  she  was, 
whence  she  came,  and  believing  Prescott  to  be  his 
proper  source  of  information,  he  asked  him  many 
questions,  not  noticing  the  impatient  or  taciturn 
demeanour  of  his  comrade  until  Robert  at  last 
exclaimed  with  a  touch  of  anger: 

"Harley,  if  you  wish  to  know  so  much  about  Miss 
Catherwood,  you  had  better  ask  her  these  questions, 
and  if  she  wishes  she  will  answer  them." 

"I  knew  that  before,"  replied  Harley  coolly;  "and 
I  tell  you  again,  Prescott,  she's  a  fine  girl — none  finer 
in  Richmond." 

Prescott  turned  his  back  in  so  far  as  a  wounded 
man  in  that  narrow  space  could  turn,  and  Harley 
presently  relapsed  into  silence. 

They  were  yet  in  the  Wilderness,  moving  among 
scrub  pines,  oaks  and  cedars,  over  ground  moist  with 
rain  and  dark  with  the  shadow  of  the  forest.  It  was 
Talbot's  wish  to  keep  in  the  rear  of  the  Southern 
army  until  the  way  was  clear  and  then  turn  toward 
Richmond.  But  this  was  not  done  with  ease,  as  the 
Southern  army  was  a  shifting  quantity,  adapting  its 
movements  to  those  of  the  North;  and  Talbot  often 
was  compelled  to  send  scouts  abroad,  lest  he  march 
with  his  convoy  of  wounded  directly  into  the  Northern 
ranks.  Once  as  he  rode  by  the  side  of  Prescott 's 
wagon  he  remarked: 

"Confound  such  a  place  as  this  Wilderness;  I  don't 
think  any  region  ever  better  deserved  its  name. 
I'll  thank  the  Lord  when  I  get  out  of  it  and  see  day- 
light again." 

They  were  then  in  a  dense  forest,  where  the  under- 
growth was  so  thick  that  they  broke  a  way  through  it 
with  difficulty.  The  trees  hung  down  mournful 
boughs  dripping  with  recent  rain ;  the  wheels  of  the 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  251 

wagons  and  the  feet  of  the  horses  made  a  drumming 
sound  in  the  soft  earth;  the  forest  fire  still  showed, 
distant  and  dim,  and  a  thin  mist  of  ashes  came  on  the 
wind  at  intervals;  now  and  then  they  heard  the  low 
roll  of  a  cannon,  so  far  away  that  it  seemed  but  an 
echo. 

Thomas  Talbot  was  usually  a  cheerful  man  who 
shut  one  eye  to  grief  and  opened  the  other  to  joy ;  but 
he  was  full  of  vigilance  to-day  and  thought  only  of 
duty.  Riding  at  the  head  of  his  column,  alert  for 
danger,  he  was  troubled  by  the  uncertainties  of  the 
way.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  two  armies  were 
revolving  like  spokes  around  a  hub,  and  he  never 
knew  which  he  was  going  to  encounter,  for  chance 
might  bring  him  into  the  arc  of  either.  He  looked 
long  at  the  gloomy  forest,  gazed  at  the  dim  fire  which 
marked  the  latest  battlefield,  and  became  convinced 
that  it  was  his  only  policy  to  push  on  and  take  the 
risk,  though  he  listened  intently  for  distant  cannon 
shots  and  bore  away  from  them. 

They  stopped  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  to 
rest  the  horses  and  serve  men  and  women  with  scanty 
food.  Prescott  felt  so  strong  that  he  climbed  out  of 
the  wagon  and  stood  for  a  moment  beside  it.  His 
head  was  dizzy  at  first,  but  presently  it  became 
steady,  and  he  walked  to  Lucia  Catherwood,  who  was 
standing  alone  by  a  great  oak  tree,  gazing  at  the 
forest. 

She  did  not  notice  him  until  she  heard  his  step  in 
the  soft  earth  close  behind  her,  when  she  started  in 
surprise  and  alarm,  exclaiming  upon  the  risk  he  took 
and  cautioning  against  exertion. 

"My  head  is  hard,"  he  said,  "and  it  will  stand  more 
blows  than  the  one  I  received  in  the  battle.  Really 
I  feel  well  enough  to  walk  out  here  and  I  want  to 
speak  to  you." 

She  was  silent,  awaiting  his  words.  A  shaft  of 
sunshine  pierced  an  opening  in  the  foliage  and  fell 
directly  upon  her.  Golden  gleams  appeared  here  and 
there  in  her  hair  and  the  colour  in  her  cheeks  deepened. 
Often  Prescott  had  thought  how  strong  she  was;  now 
he  thought  how  very  womanly  she  was. 


252  BEFORE  THE  DAWN 

"You  are" going  with  the  wounded  to  Richmond?" 
he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "I  am  going  back  to  Miss 
Grayson's,  to  the  house  and  the  city  from  which  you 
helped  me  with  so  much  trouble  and  danger  to 
escape." 

"I  am  easier  in  my  conscience  because  I  did  so,"  he 
said.  "But  Miss  Catherwood,  do  you  not  fear  for 
yourself  ?  Are  you  not  venturing  into  danger  again  ?" 

She  smiled  once  more  and  replied  in  a  slightly 
humourous  tone: 

"No;  there  is  no  danger.  I  went  as  one  unwelcome 
before;  I  go  as  a  guest  now.  You  see,  I  am  rising  in 
the  Confederacy.  One  of  your  powerful  men,  Mr. 
Sefton,  has  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"What  has  he  done  for  you?"  asked  Prescott,  with 
a  sudden  jealous  twinge. 

"He  has  given  me  this  pass,  which  will  take  me  in 
or  out  of  Richmond  as  I  wish." 

She  showed  the  pass,  and  as  Prescott  looked  at  it 
he  felt  the  colour  rise  in  his  face.  Could  the  heart  of 
the  Secretary  have  followed  the  course  of  his  own  ? 

"I  am  here  now,  I  may  say,  almost  by  chance," 
she  continued.  "After  I  left  you  I  reached  the  main 
body  of  the  Northern  army  in  safety,  and  I  intended 
to  go  at  once  to  Washington,  where  I  have  relatives, 
though  none  so  near  and  dear  as  Miss  Grayson — you 
see  I  am  really  of  the  South,  in  part  at  least — but 
there  was  a  long  delay  about  a  pass,  the  way  of  going 
and  other  such  things,  and  while  I  was  waiting 
General  Grant  began  his  great  forward  movement. 
There  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  then  but  to  cling 
to  the  army — and — and  I  thought  I  might  be  of 
some  use  there.  Women  may  not  be  needed  on  a 
battlefield,  but  they  are  afterward." 

"I,  most  of  all  men,  ought  to  know  that,"  said 
Prescott,  earnestly.  "Don't  I  know  that  you, 
unaided,  brought  me  to  that  house?  Were  it  not 
for  you  I  should  probably  have  died  alone  in  the 
Wilderness." 

"  I  owed  you  something,  Captain  Prescott,  and  I 
have  tried  to  repay  a  little,"  she  said. 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  253 

"You  owe  me  nothing;  the  debt  is  all  mine." 

Captain  Prescott,  I  hope  you  do  not  think  I  have 
been  unwomanly,"  she  said. 

' '  Unwomanly  ?     Why  should  I  think  it  ?" 

"Because  I  went  to  Richmond  alone,  though  I 
did  so  really  because  I  had  nowhere  else  to  go.  You 
believe  me  a  spy,  and  you  think  for  that  reason  I 
was  trying  to  escape  from  Richmond  !" 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  Prescott,  and  when  she 
met  his  answering  gaze  the  flush  in  her  cheeks 
deepened. 

"Ah,  I  was  right;  you  do  think  me  a  spy!"  she 
exclaimed  with  passionate  earnestness,  "and  God 
knows  I  might  have  been  one !  Some  such  thought 
was  in  my  mind  when  I  went  to  Miss  Grayson's  in 
Richmond.  That  day  in  the  President's  office,  when 
the  people  were  at  the  reception  I  was  sorely  tempted, 
but  I  turned  away.  I  went  into  that  room  with  the 
full  intention  of  being  a  spy.  I  admit  it.  Morally, 
I  suppose  that  I  was  one  until  that  moment,  but 
when  the  opportunity  came  I  could  not  do  it.  The 
temptation  would  come  again,  I  knew,  and  it  was  one 
reason  why  I  wished  to  leave  Richmond,  though  my 
first  attempt  was  made  because  I  feared  you — I  did 
not  know  you  then.  I  do  not  like  the  name  of  spy 
and  I  do  not  want  to  be  one.  But  there  were  others, 
and  far  stronger  reasons.  A  powerful  man  knew  of 
my  presence  in  that  office  on  that  day;  he  could 
have  proved  me  guilty  even  though  innocent,  and  he 
could  have  involved  with  my  punishment  the  destruc- 
tion of  others.  There  was  Miss  Grayson — how  could 
I  bring  ruin  upon  her  head  !  And — and " 

She  stopped  and  the  brilliant  colour  suffused  her 
face. 

"You  used  the  word  'others,'  "  said  Prescott. 
"You  mean  that  so  long  as  you  were  in  Richmond 
my  ruin  was  possible  because  I  helped  you?" 

She  did  not  reply,  but  the  vivid  colour  remained 
in  her  face. 

"It  is  nothing  to  me,"  said  Prescott,  "whether  you 
were  or  were  not  a  spy,  or  whether  you  were  tempted 
to  be  one.  My  conscience  does  not  reproach  me 


254  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

because  I  helped  you,  but  I  think  that  it  would  give 
me  grievous  hurt  had  I  not  done  so.  I  am  not  fitted 
to  be  the  judge  of  anybody,  Miss  Catherwood,  least  of 
all  of  you.  It  would  never  occur  to  me  to  think  you 
unwomanly." 

"You  see  that  I  value  your  good  opinion,  Captain 
Prescott,"  she  said,  smiling  slightly. 

"It  is  the  only  thing  that  makes  my  opinion  of 
any  worth." 

Talbot  approached  at  that  moment.  Prescott 
introduced  him  with  the  courtesy  of  the  time,  not 
qualified  at  all  by  their  present  circumstances,  and 
he  regarded  Talbot 's  look  of  wonder  and  admiration 
with  a  secret  pleasure.  What  would  Talbot  say,  he 
thought,  if  he  were  to  tell  him  that  this  was  the  girl  for 
whom  he  had  searched  Miss  Grayson's  house  ? 

"Prescott,"  said  Talbot,  "a  bruised  head  has  put 
you  here  and  a  scratched  arm  keeps  me  in  the  same 
fix,  but  this  is  almost  our  old  crowd  and  Richmond 
again — Miss  Harley  and  her  brother,  Mrs.  Markham, 
you  and  myself.  We  ought  to  meet  Winthrop, 
Raymond  and  General  Wood." 

"We  may,"  added  Prescott,  "  as  they  are  all  some- 
where with  the  army ;  Raymond  is  probably  printing 
an  issue  of  his  paper  in  the  rear  of  it — he  certainly  has 
news — and  as  General  Wood  is  usually  everywhere 
we  are  not  likely  to  miss  him." 

"I  think  it  just  as  probable  that  we  shall  meet  a 
troop  of  Yankee  cavalry,"  said  Talbot.  "I  don't 
know  what  they  would  want  with  a  convoy  of  wounded 
Confederates,  but  I'm  detailed  to  take  you  to  safety 
and  I'd  like  to  do  it." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  Lucia.  Something  in 
her  manner  gave  him  a  passing  idea  that  she  was  not 
of  his  people. 

"Still  there  is  not  much  danger  of  that,"  he  con- 
tinued. "The  Yankees  are  poor  horsemen — not  to  be 
compared  with  ours,  are  they,  Miss  Catherwood?" 

She  met  his  gaze  directly  and  smiled. 

"I  think  the  Yankee  cavalry  is  very  good,"  she 
said.  "You  may  call  me  a  Yankee,  too,  Captain 
Talbot.  I  am  not  traveling  in  disguise." 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  355 

Talbot  stroked  his  mustache,  of  which  he  was 
proud,  and  laughed. 

"I  thought  so,"  he  said;  "and  I  can't  say  I'm  sorry. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  hate  all  the  Yankees,  but  really 
it  will  add  to  the  spice  of  life  to  have  with  us  a  Yankee 
lady  who  is  not  afraid  to  speak  her  mind.  Besides,  if 
things  go  badly  with  us  we  can  relieve  our  minds  by 
attacking  you." 

Talbot  was  philosophical  as  well  as  amiable,  and 
Prescott  .saw  at  once  that  he  and  Lucia  would  be 
good  friends,  which  was  a  comfort,  as  it  was  in  the 
power  of  the  commander  of  the  convoy  to  have  made 
her  life  unpleasant. 

Talbot  stayed  only  a  minute  or  two,  then  rode  on  to 
the  head  of  the  column,  and  when  he  was  gone  Lucia 
said: 

"Captain  Prescott,  you  must  go  back  to  your 
wagon;  it  is  not  wise  for  you  to  stay  on  your  feet  so 
long — at  least,  not  yet." 

He  obeyed  her  reluctantly,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  convoy  moved  on  through  the  deep  woods  to  the 
note  of  an  occasional  and  distant  cannon  shot  and 
a  faint  hum  as  of  great  armies  moving.  An  hour 
later  they  heard  a  swift  gallop  and  the  figure  of  Wood 
at  the  head  of  a  hundred  horsemen  appeared. 

The  mountaineer  seemed  to  embrace  the  whole 
column  in  one  comprehensive  look  that  was  a  smile 
of  pleasure  when  it  passed  over  the  face  of  Helen 
Harley,  a  glance  of  curiosity  when  it  lingered  on 
Lucia  Catherwood,  and  inquiry  when  it  reached 
Talbot,  who  quickly  explained  his  mission.  All 
surrounded  Wood,  eager  for  news. 

"We're  going  to  meet  down  here  somewhere  near  a 
place  they  call  Spottsylvania,"  said  the  General 
succinctly.  "  It  won't  be  many  days — two  or  three,  I 
guess — and  it  will  be  as  rough  a  meeting  as  that  behind 
us  was.  If  I  were  you,  Talbot,  I'd  keep  straight  on 
to  the  south." 

Then  the  General  turned  with  his  troopers  to  go. 
It  was  not  a  time  when  he  could  afford  to  tarry ;  but 
before  starting  he  took  Helen  Harley 's  hand  in  his 
with  a  grace  worthy  of  better  training: 


256  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"I'll  bring  you  news  of  the  coming  battle,  Miss 
Harley." 

She  thanked  him  with  her  eyes,  and  in  a  moment 
he  was  gone,  he  and  his  troopers  swallowed  up  by  the 
black  forest.  The  convoy  resumed  its  way  through 
the  Wilderness,  passing  on  at  a  pace  that  was  of 
necessity  slow  owing  to  the  wounded  in  the  wagons 
and  the  rough  and  tangled  nature  of  the  -country, 
which  lost  nothing  of  its  wild  and  somber  character. 
The  dwarf  cedars  and  oaks  and  pines  still  stretched 
away  to  the  horizon.  Night  began  to  come  down 
in  the  east  and  there  the  Wilderness  heaved  up  in  a 
black  mass  against  the  sullen  sky.  The  low  note 
of  a  cannon  shot  came  now  and  then  like  the  faint 
rumble  of  dying  thunder. 

Lucia  walked  alone  near  the  rear  of  the  column. 
She  had  grown  weary  of  the  wagons  and  her  strong 
young  frame  craved  exercise.  She  was  seldom  afraid 
or  awed,  but  now  the  sun  sinking  over  the  terrible 
Wilderness  and  the  smoke  of  battle  around  chilled 
her.  The  long  column  of  the  hurt,  winding  its  way 
so  lonely  and  silent  through  the  illimitable  forest, 
seemed  like  a  wreck  cast  up  from  the  battles,  and  her 
soul  was  full  of  sympathy.  In  a  nature  of  unusual 
strength  her  emotions  were  of  like  quality,  and  though 
once  she  had  been  animated  by  a  deep  and  passionate 
anger  against  that  South  with  which  she  now  marched, 
at  this  moment  she  found  it  all  gone — slipped  away 
while  she  was  not  noticing.  She  loved  her  own 
cause  none  the  less,  but  no  longer  hated  the  enemy. 
She  had  received  the  sympathy  and  the  friend- 
ship of  a  woman  toward  whom  she  had  once  felt 
a  sensation  akin  to  dislike.  She  did  not  forget  how 
she  had  stood  in  the  fringe  of  the  crowd  that  day  in 
Richmond  and  had  envied  Helen  Harley  when,  in  her 
glowing  beauty,  she  received  the  tribute  of  the  multi- 
tude. Now  the  two  women  were  drawn  together. 
Something  that  had  been  between  them  was  gone, 
and  in  her  heart  Lucia  knew  what  it  was;  but  she 
rejoiced  in  a  companionship  and  a  friendship  of  her 
own  sex  when  she  was  among  those  who  were  not 
of  her  cause. 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  257 

It  was  impossible  to  resist  sharing  the  feelings  of 
the  column :  when  it  was  in  dread  lest  some  wandering 
echo  might  be  the  tread  of  Northern  horsemen,  she, 
too,  was  in  dread.  She  wanted  this  particular 
column  to  escape,  but  when  she  looked  toward 
another  part  of  the  Wilderness,  saw  the  dim  light  and 
heard  the  far  rumble  of  another  cannon  shot,  she  felt 
a  secret  glow  of  pride.  Grant  was  still  coming, 
always  coming,  and  he  would  come  to  the  end.  The 
result  was  no  longer  in  doubt;  it  was  now  merely  a 
matter  of  time  and  patience. 

The  sun  sank  behind  the  Wilderness ;  the  night  came 
down,  heavy,  black  and  impenetrable;  slow  thunder 
told  of  rain,  and  Talbot  halted  the  convoy  in  the 
densest  part  of  the  forest,  where  the  shelter  would  be 
best — for  he  was  not  sure  of  his  way  and  farther 
marching  in  the  dark  might  take  him  into  the  enemy's 
camp.  All  day  they  had  not  passed  a  single  house 
nor  met  a  single  dweller  in  the  Wilderness ;  if  they  had 
been  near  any  woodcutter's  hut  it  was  hidden  in  a 
ravine  and  they  did  not  see  it.  If  a  woodcutter  him- 
self saw  them  he  remained  in  his  covert  in  the  thicket 
and  they  passed  on,  unspoken. 

Talbot  thought  it  best  to  camp  where  they  were  for 
the  night,  and  he  drew  up  the  wagons  in  a  circle,  in 
the  centre  of  which  were  built  fires  that  burned  with  a 
smoky  flame .  All  hovered  around  the  blaze ,  as  they  felt 
lonely  in  this  vast  Wilderness  and  were  glad  when  the 
beds  of  coal  began  to  form  and  glow  red  in  the  dark- 
ness. Even  the  wounded  in  the  wagons  turned  their 
eyes  that  way  and  drew  cheer  from  the  ruddy  glow. 

A  rumour  arose  presently,  and  grew.  It  said  that 
a  Yankee  woman  was  among  them,  traveling  with 
them.  Some  one  added  that  she  bore  a  pass  from 
the  powerful  Mr.  Sefton  and  was  going  to  Richmond, 
but  why  he  did  not  know.  Then  they  looked  about 
among  the  women  and  decided  that  it  could  be  none 
save  Lucia;  but  if  there  was  any  feeling  of  hostility 
toward  her  it  soon  disappeared.  Other  women  were 
with  the  column,  but  none  so  strong,  none  so  helpful 
as  she.  Always  she  knew  what  to  do  and  when  to  do 
it.  She  never  grew  tired  nor  lost  her  good  humour; 


258  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

her  touch  had  healing  in  it,  and  the  wounded  grew 
better  at  the  sight  of  her  face. 

"  If  all  the  Yankees  are  like  her,  I  wish  I  had  a  few 
more  with  this  column,  "  murmured  Talbot  under  his 
breath. 

Lucia  began  to  feel  the  change  in  the  atmosphere 
about  her.  The  coldness  vanished.  She  looked  upon 
the  faces  that  welcomed  her,  and  being  a  woman  she 
felt  warmth  at  her  heart,  but  said  nothing. 

Prescott  crawled  again  from  his  wagon  and  said  to 
her  as  she  passed: 

"Why  do  you  avoid  me,  Miss  Catherwood?" 

A  gleam  of  humour  appeared  in  her  eye. 

"You  are  getting  well  too  fast.  I  do  not  think 
you  will  need  any  more  attention,"  she  replied. 

He  regarded  her  with  an  unmoved  countenance. 

"  Miss  Catherwood, "  he  said,  "  I  feel  myself  growing 
very  much  worse.  It  is  a  sudden  attack  and  a  bad 
one. " 

But  she  passed  on,  disbelieving,  and  left  him  rueful. 

The  night  went  by  without  event ,  and  then  another 
day  and  another  night,  and  still  they  hovered  in  the 
rear  of  their  army,  uncertain  which  way  to  go, 
tangled  up  in  the  Wilderness  and  fearing  at  any 
moment  a  raid  of  the  Northern  cavalry.  They  yet 
saw  the  dim  fire  in  the  forest,  and  no  hour  was  without 
its  distant  cannon  shot. 

On  the  second  day  the  two  editors,  Raymond  and 
Winthrop,  joined  them. 

"  I've  been  trying  to  print  a  paper, "  said  Raymond 
ruefully,  "but  they  wouldn't  stay  in  one  place  long 
enough  for  me  to  get  my  press  going.  This  morning 
a  Yankee  cannot  shot  smashed  the  press  and  I  suppose 
I  might  as  well  go  back  to  Richmond.  But  I  can't, 
with  so  much  coming  on.  They'll  be  in  battle  before 
another  day." 

Raymond  spoke  in  solemn  tones  (even  he  was 
awed  and  oppressed  by  what  he  had  seen)  and 
Winthrop  nodded  assent. 

"They  are  converging  upon  the  same  point,"  said 
Winthrop,  "and  they  are  sure  to  meet  inside  of 
twenty-four  hours." 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  259 

When  Lucia  awoke  the  next  morning  the  distant 
guns  were  sounding  in  her  ears  and  a  light  flame 
burned  under  the  horizon  in  the  north.  Day  had 
just  come,  hot  and  close,  and  the  sun  showed  the 
colour  of  copper  through  the  veil  of  clouds  hanging 
at  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

" It's  begun,"  she  heard  Talbot  say  briefly,  but  she 
did  not  need  his  words  to  tell  her  that  the  armies  were 
joined  again  in  deadly  strife  in  the  Wilderness. 

They  ate  breakfast  in  silence,  all  watching  the 
glowing  light  in  the  north  and  listening  to  the 
thunder  of  the  guns.  Prescott,  strong  after  his 
night's  rest  and  sleep,  came  from  the  wagon  and 
announced  that  he  would  not  ride  as  an  invalid  any 
more;  he  intended  to  do  his  share  of  the  work,  and 
Talbot  did  not  contradict  him ;  it  was  a  time  when  a 
man  who  could  serve  should  be  permitted  to  do  it. 

Talbot  said  they  would  remain  in  the  camp  for  the 
present  and  await  the  fortunes  of  the  battle;  it  was 
not  worth  while  to  continue  a  retreat  when  none  knew 
in  which  direction  the  right  path  lay.  But  the  men 
as  they  listened  were  seized  with  a  fever  of  impa- 
tience. The  flame  of  the  cannon  and  the  thunder  of 
the  battle  had  a  singular  attraction  for  them.  They 
wished  to  be  there  and  they  cursed  their  fate  because 
they  were  here.  The  wounded  lamented  their  wounds 
and  the  well  were  sad  because  they  were  detailed  for 
such  duty ;  the  new  battle  was  going  on  without  them, 
and  the  result  would  be  decided  while  they  waited 
there  in  the  Wilderness  with  their  hands  folded. 
How  they  missed  the  Secretary  with  his  news ! 

The  morning  went  slowly  on.  The  sun  rose  high, 
but  it  still  shone  with  a  coppery  hue  through  the  float- 
ing clouds,  and  a  thick  blanket  of  damp  heat  enclosed 
the  convoy.  The  air  seemed  to  tremble  with  the 
sound  from  the  distant  battle;  it  came  in  waves,  and 
save  for  it  the  forest  was  silent;  no  birds  sang  in  the 
trees,  nothing  moved  in  the  grass.  There  was  only  the 
rumble  of  guns,  coming  wave  upon  wave.  Thus  hour 
after  hour  passed,  and  the  fever  of  impatience  still 
held  the  souls  of  those  in  this  column.  But  the  black 
Wilderness  would  tell  no  tale ;  it  gave  back  the  sound 


26o  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

of  conflict  and  nothing  more.  They  watched  the 
growing  smoke  and  flame,  the  forest  bursting  into 
fresh  fires,  and  knew  only  that  the  battle  was  fierce 
and  desperate,  as  before. 

Prescott 's  strength  was  returning  rapidly,  and  he 
expected  in  another  day  or  two  to  return  to  the  army. 
The  spirit  was  strong  within  him  to  make  the  trial 
now,  but  Talbot  would  not  hear  of  it,  saying  that  his 
wound  was  not  healed  sufficiently.  On  the  morning 
of  that  second  day  he  stood  beside  Lucia,  somewhat 
withdrawn  from  the  others,  and  for  awhile  they 
watched  the  distant  battle.  It  was  the  first  time  in 
twenty-four  hours  that  he  had  been  able  to  speak  to 
her.  She  had  not  seemed  exactly  to  avoid  him,  but 
she  was  never  in  his  path.  Now  he  wished  to  hold 
her  there  with  talk. 

"I  fear  that  you  will  be  lonely  in  Richmond,"  he 
said  at  random. 

"  I  shall  have  Miss  Grayson, "  she  replied,  "  and  the 
panorama  of  the  war  will  pass  before  me;  I  shall  not 
have  time  for  loneliness.  " 

"  Poor  Richmond  !     It  is  desolate  now.  " 

"Its  condition  may  become  worse,"  she  said 
meaningly. 

He  understood  the  look  in  her  eyes  and  replied : 

"  You  mean  that  Grant  will  come  ? " 

"Yes!"  she  exclaimed,  pointing  toward  the  flame 
of  the  battle.  "Can't  you  see?  Don't  you  know, 
Captain  Prescott,  that  Grant  will  never  turn  back? 
It  is  but  three  days  since  he  fought  a  battle  as  great 
as  Gettysburg,  and  now  he  is  fighting  another.  The 
man  has  come,  and  the  time  for  the  South  is  at  hand. " 

"But  what  a  price — what  a  price!"  said  Prescott. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  quickly;  "but  it  is  the  South, 
not  the  North,  that  demands  payment." 

Then  she  stopped,  and  brilliant  colour  flushed  into 
her  face. 

"Forgive  me  for  saying  such  things  at  such  a 
time,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  hate  anybody  in  the 
South,  and  I  am  now  with  Southern  people.  Credit 
it  to  my  bad  taste. " 

But  Prescott  would  not  have  it  so.     It  was  he  who 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  261 

had  spoken,  he  said,  and  she  had  the  right  to  reply. 
Then  he  asked  her  indirectly  of  herself,  and  she 
answered  willingly.  Hers  had  been  a  lonely  life,  and 
she  had  been  forced  to  develop  self-reliance,  though 
perhaps  it  had  taken  her  further  than  she  intended. 
She  seemed  still  to  fear  that  he  would  think  her  too 
masculine,  a  bit  unwomanly;  but  her  loneliness,  the 
lack  of  love  in  her  life,  made  a  new  appeal  to  Prescott. 
He  admired  her  as  she  stood  there  in  her  splendid 
young  beauty  and  strength — a  woman  with  a  mind  to 
match  her  beauty — and  wondered  how  his  fleeting 
fancy  could  ever  have  been  drawn  to  any  other.  She 
was  going  to  that  hostile  Richmond,  where  she  had 
been  in  such  danger,  and  she  would  be  alone  there 
save  for  one  weak  woman,  watched  and  suspected 
like  herself.  He  felt  a  sudden  overwhelming  desire 
to  protect  her,  to  defend  her,  to  be  a  wall  between  her 
and  all  danger. 

Far  off  on  the  northern  horizon  the  battle  flamed 
and  rumbled,  and  a  faint  reflection  of  its  lurid  glow 
fell  on  the  forest  where  they  stood.  It  may  be  that 
its  reflection  fell  on  Prescott  *s  ardent  mind  and 
hastened  him  on. 

"Lucia,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  are  going  back  to 
Richmond,  where  you  will  be  suspected,  perhaps 
insulted!  Give  me  the  right  to  protect  you  from 
everybody ! " 

"Give  you  the  right!"  she  exclaimed,  in  surprise; 
but  as  she  looked  at  him  the  brilliant  colour  dyed  her 
face  and  neck. 

"Yes,  Lucia,"  he  said,  "the  greatest  and  holiest 
of  all  rights !  Do  you  not  see  that  I  love  you  ?  Be 
my  wife !  Give  me  the  right  as  your  husband  to 
stand  between  you  and  all  danger!" 

Still  she  looked  at  him,  and  as  she  gazed  the  colour 
left  her  face,  leaving  it  very  pale,  while  her  eyes 
showed  a  dazzling  hue. 

The  forgotten  battle  flamed  and  thundered  on  the 
horizon. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  cannot  give  you  such  a 
promise. " 

"  Lucia !     You  do  not  mean  that !     I  know  you  do 


262  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

not.  You  must  care  for  me  a  little.  One  reason  why 
you  fled  from  Richmond  was  to  save  me !" 

"Yes,  I  do  care  for  you — a  little.  But  do  you  care 
for  me  enough — ah !  do  not  interrupt  me !  Think 
of  the  time,  the  circumstances !  One  may  say  things 
now  which  he  might  not  mean  in  a  cooler  moment. 
You  wish  to  protect  me — does  a  man  marry  a  woman 
merely  to  protect  her?  I 'have  always  been  able  to 
protect  myself. " 

There  was  a  flash  of  pride  in  her  tone  and  her  tall 
figure  grew  taller.  Prescott  flushed  a  little  and 
dropped  his  eyes  for  a  moment. 

"  I  have  been  unfortunate  in  my  words,  but,  believe 
me,  Lucia,  I  do  not  mean  it  in  that  way.  It  is  love, 
not  protection,  that  I  offer.  I  believe  that  I  loved  you 
from  the  first — from  the  time  I  was  pursuing  you  as  a 
spy;  and  I  pursue  you  now,  though  for  myself.  " 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  though  she  smiled  upon 
him.  She  was  his  enemy,  she  said — she  was  of  the 
North  and  he  of  the  South — what  would  he  say  to 
his  friends  in  Richmond,  and  how  could  he  com- 
promise himself  by  such  a  marriage  ?  Moreover, 
it  was  a  time  of  war,  and  one  must  not  think  of  love. 
He  grew  more  passionate  in  his  declaration  as  he  saw 
that  which  he  wished  slipping  from  him,  and  she, 
though  still  refusing  him,  let  him  talk,  because  he  said 
the  things  that  she  loved  best  to  hear.  All  the  while 
the  forgotten  battle  flamed  and  thundered  on  the 
northern  horizon.  Its  result  and  progress  alike  were 
of  no  concern  to  them;  both  North  and  South  had 
floated  off  m  the  distance. 

Talbot  came  that  way  as  they  talked,  and  seeing 
the  look  on  their  faces,  started  and  turned  back. 
They  never  saw  him.  Lucia  remained  fixed  in  her 
resolve  and  only  shook  her  head  at  Prescott's  pleading. 

"But  at  least,"  said  Prescott,  "that  'no'  is  not  to 
apply  forever.  I  shall  refuse  to  despair. " 

She  smiled  somewhat  sadly  without  reply,  and  there 
was  no  opportunity  to  say  more,  as  others  drew  near, 
among  them  Mrs.  Markham,  wary  and  keen-eyed  as 
ever.  She  marked  well  the  countenances  of  these 
two,  but  reserved  her  observations  for  future  use. 


A   DELICATE   SITUATION  263 

The  battle  reclaimed  attention,  silhouetted  as  it 
was  in  a  great  flaming  cloud  against  a  twilight  sky, 
and  its  low  rumble  was  an  unbroken  note. 

When  night  fell  a  messenger  came  with  terrible 
news.  Grant  had  broken  through  at  last !  The  thin 
lines  of  the  Confederates  could  nof  stand  this  steady, 
heavy  hammering  day  after  day.  They  must  retreat 
through  the  Wilderness  and  draw  fresh  breath  to 
fight  again.  Sadly  the  convoy  took  its  way  to  the 
south,  and  in  three  hours  it  was  enveloped  by  the 
remnants  of  a  broken  brigade,  retreating  in  the  fear 
of  hot  pursuit  by  both  cavalry  and  infantry.  The 
commander  of  the  brigade,  by  virtue  of  his  rank, 
became  commander  of  the  whole,  and  Talbot,  longing 
for  action,  fell  back  to  the  rear,  resolved  to  watch  for 
the  enemy. 

Talbot  hated  to  exercise  authority,  preferring  to 
act  alone;  and  now  he  became  a  picket,  keen-eyed, 
alert,  while  his  friends  went  into  camp  ahead  on  the 
bank  of  a  narrow  but  deep  river.  Presently  he 
heard  shots  and  knew  that  the  skirmishers  of  the 
enemy  were  advancing,  though  he  wondered  why 
they  should  show  such  pernicious  activity  on  so  black 
a  night.  They  were  in  battle  with  some  other  retreat- 
ing Southern  force — probably  a  regiment,  he  thought 
— and  if  they  wanted  to  fight  he  could  not  help  it. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE      LONE      SENTINEL 

The  desultory  firing  troubled  the  ears  of  Talbot  as 
he  trod  to  and  fro  on  his  self-imposed  task,  as  he  could 
not  see  the  use  of  it.  The  day  for  fighting  and  the 
night  for  sleep  and  rest  was  the  perfect  division  of  a 
soldier's  life. 

The  tail  of  the  battle  writhed  on  without  regard  for 
his  feelings  or  theories,  though  its  efforts  became 
gradually  feebler,  and  he  hoped  that  by  and  by  the 
decent  part  of  both  armies  would  settle  into  lethargy, 
leaving  the  night  to  the  skirmishers,  who  never  sleep 
and  are  without  conscience. 

He  went  back  a  little  to  an  open  spot  where  a 
detail  of  about  twenty  men  were  posted.  But  he  did 
not  remain  with  them  long.  Securing  a  rifle,  he 
returned  toward  the  enemy,  resolved  to  watch  on  his 
own  account — a  voluntary  picket. 

Talbot  was  not  troubled  for  his  friends  alone.  The 
brigade  had  been  beaten  and  driven  back  upon  the 
river,  and  with  the  press  of  numbers  against  it  he 
feared  that  the  next  day  would  bring  its  destruction. 
The  coming  of  the  night,  covering  friend  and  foe  alike 
and  making  activity  hazardous,  was  opportune,  since 
it  would  give  his  comrades  time  to  rest  and  gather 
their  strength  for  the  stand  in  the  morning.  He 
could  hear  behind  him  even  now  the  heavy  tread  of 
the  beaten  companies  as  they  sought  their  places  in 
the  darkness,  the  clank  of  gun  wheels,  and  now  and 
then  the  neigh  of  a  tired  horse. 

The  crash  of  a  volley  and  another  volley  which 
answered  came  from  his  right,  and  then  there  was  a 
spatter  of  musketry,  stray  shots  following  each  other 
and  quickly  dying  away.  Talbot  saw  the  flash  of  the 
guns,  and  the  smell  of  burnt  gunpowder  came  to  his 

264 


THE   LONE   SENTINEL  265 

nostrils.  He  made  a  movement  of  impatience,  for  the 
powder  poisoned  the  pure  air.  He  heard  the  shouts 
of  men,  but  they  ceased  in  a  few  moments,  and  then 
farther  away  a  cannon  boomed.  More  volleys  of 
rifle  shots  and  the  noise  of  the  cheering  or  its  echo 
came  from  his  left ;  but  unable  to  draw  meaning  from 
the  tumult,  he  concluded  at  last  it  was  only  the 
smouldering  embers  of  the  battle  and  continued  to 
walk  his  voluntary  beat  with  steady  step. 

The  night  advanced  and  the  rumbling  in  the 
encampment  behind  him  did  not  cease  at  all,  the 
sounds  remaining  the  same  as  they  were  earlier  in  the 
evening — that  is,  the  drum  of  many  feet  upon  the 
earth,  the  rattle  of  metal  and  the  hum  of  many  voices. 
Talbot  concluded  that  the  men  would  never  go  to 
sleep,  but  presently  a  light  shot  up  in  the  darkness 
behind  him,  rising  eight  or  ten  feet  above  the  earth 
and  tapering  at  the  top  to  a  blue-and-pink  point. 
Presently  another  arose  beside  it,  and  then  others 
and  still  others,  until  there  were  thirty,  forty,  fifty 
or  more. 

Talbot  knew  these  were  the  campfires  and  he 
wondered  why  they  had  not  been  lighted  before.  At 
last  the  men  would  go  to  sleep  beside  the  cheerful 
blaze.  The  fires  comforted  him,  too,  and  he  looked 
upon  the  rosy  flame  of  each,  shining  there  in  the 
darkness,  as  he  would  have  looked  upon  a  personal 
friend.  They  took  away  much  of  his  lonely  feeling, 
and  as  they  bent  a  little  before  the  wind  seemed  to 
nod  to  him  a  kind  of  encouragement  in  the  dangerous 
work  upon  which  he  had  set  himself.  He  could  see 
only  the  tops  of  these  rosy  cones ;  all  below  was  hidden 
by  the  bushes  that  grew  between.  He  could  not  see 
even  the  dim  figure  of  a  soldier,  but  he  knew  that  they 
were  there,  stretched  out  in  long  rows  before  the  fires, 
asleep  in  their  blankets,  while  others  stood  by  on 
their  arms,  ready  for  defense  should  the  pickets  be 
driven  in. 

The  troublesome  skirmishers  seemed  to  be  resting 
just  then,  for  no  one  fired  at  him  and  he  could  not 
hear  them  moving  in  the  woods.  The  scattering 
shots  down  the  creek  ceased  and  the  noises  in  the 


266  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

camp  began  to  die.  It  seemed  as  if  night  were  about 
to  claim  her  own  at  last  and  put  everybody  to  rest. 
The  fires  rose  high  and  burned  with  a  steady  flame. 

A  stick  broke  under  his  feet  with  a  crackling  noise 
as  he  walked  to  and  fro,  and  a  bullet  sang  through 
the  darkness  past  his  ear.  He  fired  at  the  flash  of 
the  rifle,  and  as  he  ran  back  and  forth  fired  five  or  six 
times  more,  slipping  in  the  bullets  as  quickly  as  he 
could,  for  he  wished  to  create  an  illusion  that  the 
patrol  consisted  of  at  least  a  dozen  men.  The  oppos- 
ing skirmishers  returned  his  fire  with  spirit,  and 
Talbot  heard  their  bullets  clipping  the  twigs  and 
pattering  among  the  leaves,  but  he  felt  no  great 
alarm,  since  the  night  covered  him  and  only  a  chance 
ball  could  strike  him. 

His  opponents  were  wary,  and  only  two  or  three 
times  did  he  see  the  shadows  which  he  knew  to  be 
their  moving  figures.  He  fired  at  these  but  no  answer- 
ing cry  came,  and  Talbot  could  not  tell  whether  any 
of  his  bullets  struck,  though  it  did  not  matter.  His 
lead  served  well  enough  as  a  warning,  and  the  skir- 
mishers must  know  that  the  nearer  they  came  the  better 
aim  they  would  have  to  face.  Presently  their  fire 
ceased  and  he  was  disappointed,  as  his  blood  had  risen 
to  fever  heat  and  he  was  in  fighting  humour. 

The  night  went  on  its  slow  way,  and  Talbot,  stop- 
ping a  moment  to  rest  and  listen  for  the  skirmishers, 
calculated  that  it  was  not  more  than  two  hours  until 
day.  The  long  period  through  which  he  had  watched 
began  to  press  upon  him.  Weights  dragged  at  his 
feet,  and  he  noticed  that  his  rifle  when  he  shifted  it 
from  one  shoulder  to  the  other  appeared  many 
pounds  heavier  than  before.  His  knees  grew  stiff  and 
he  felt  like  an  old  man ;  but  he  allowed  himself  no  rest, 
continuing  his  walk  back  and  forth  at  a  slower  pace, 
for  he  believed  he  could  feel  his  joints  grate  as  he 
stepped.  He  looked  at  the  fires  with  longing  and  was 
tempted  to  go;  but  no,  he  must  atone  for  the  neglect 
of  that  chief  of  brigade. 

Just  when  the  night  seemed  to  be  darkest  the 
skirmishers  made  another  attack,  rushing  forward  in 
a  body,  firing  with  great  vigour  and  shouting,  though 


THE    LONE    SENTINEL  267 

hitherto  they  had  fought  chiefly  in  silence.  Talbot 
considered  it  an  attempt  to  demoralize  him  and  was 
ready  for  it.  He  retreated  a  little,  sheltered  himself 
behind  a  tree  and  opened  fire,  skipping  between  shots 
from  one  tree  to  another  in  order  that  he  might  pro- 
tect the  whole  of  his  battle  line  and  keep  his  apparent 
numbers  at  their  height. 

His  assailants  were  so  near  now  that  he  could  see 
some  of  them  springing  about,  and  one  of  his  shots 
was  followed  by  a  cry  of  pain  and  the  disappearance 
of  the  figure.  After  that  the  fire  of  his  antagonists 
diminished  and  soon  ceased.  They  had  shown  much 
courage,  but  seemed  to  think  that  the  defenders  were 
in  superior  numbers  and  a  further  advance  would 
mean  their  own  destruction. 

Again  silence  came,  save  for  the  hum  of  the  camp. 
The  fires  "burnt  brightly  behind  him,  and  far  off  in 
front  he  saw  the  flickering  fires  of  the  enemy.  As 
the  wind  increased  the  lights  wavered  and  the  cones 
split  into  many  streams  of  flame  before  it.  The  leaves 
and  boughs  whistled  in  the  rush  of  air  and  the  waters 
of  the  creek  sang  a  minor  chord  on  the  shallows. 
Talbot  had  heard  these  sounds  a  hundred  times  when 
a  boy  in  the  wilderness  of  the  deep  woods,  and  it  was 
easy  enough  for  him  to  carry  himself  back  there,  with 
no  army  or  soldier  near.  But  he  quickly  dismissed 
such  thoughts  as  would  lull  him  only  into  neglect 
of  his  watch.  After  having  kept  it  so  long  and  so  well 
it  would  be  the  height  of  weakness  to  fail  now,  when 
day  could  not  be  much  more  than  two  hours  distant. 

The  silence  remained  unbroken.  An  hour  passed 
and  then  another,  and  in  the  east  he  saw  a  faint  shade 
of  dark  gray  showing  through  the  black  as  if  through 
a  veil. 

The  gray  tint  brightened  and  the  black  veil  became 
thinner.  Soon  it  parted  and  a  bar  of  light  shot 
across  the  eastern  horizon,  broadening  rapidly  till 
the  world  of  hills,  fields  and  forests  rose  up  from  the 
darkness.  A  trumpet  sounded  in  the  hostile  camp. 

Skirmishers  filled  the  woods  in  front  of  Talbot  and 
pressed  toward  him  in  a  swarm. 

"Surrender!"  cried  out  one  of  them,  an  officer. 


268  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"It  is  useless  for  you  to  resist !  We  are  a  hundred 
and  you  are  one  !  Don't  you  see  ? " 

Talbot  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  fires  burning 
in  the  empty  camp  of  his  comrades.  The  light  of  the 
morning  showed  everything,  even  to  the  last  boat-load 
of  the  beaten  brigade  landing  on  the  farther  shore; 
he  understood  all. 

"  Yes,  I  will  surrender, "  he  said,  as  his  eyes  gleamed 
with  sudden  comprehension  of  his  great  triumph,  "  but 
I've  held  you  back  till  the  last  company  of  our  division 
has  passed  the  river  and  is  safe. " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

OUT     OF     THE     FOREST 

The  retreating  brigade,  the  river  behind  it  and  the 
pursuit  seemingly  lost  on  the  farther  shore,  passed 
on  in  the  golden  sunshine  of  the  morning  through,' 
a  country  of  gentle  hills,  green  fields  and  scattered 
forest. 

It  was  joined  three  hours  after  sunrise  by  no  less 
a  person  than  Mr.  Sefton  himself,  fresh,  immaculate 
and  with  no  trace  of  discomposure  on  his  face.  He 
was  on  horseback,  and  told  them  he  had  just  come 
across  the  fields  from  another  division  of  the  army  not 
more  than  three  miles  away.  He  gave  the  news  in  a 
quiet  tone,  without  any  special  emphasis  upon  the 
more  important  passages.  The  South  had  been 
compelled  to  give  ground;  Grant  had  lost  more  than 
fifty  thousand  men,  but  he  was  coming  through  the 
Wilderness  and  would  not  be  denied.  He  was  still 
fighting  as  if  he  had  just  begun,  and  reinforcements 
were  constantly  pouring  forward  to  take  the  places  of 
the  fallen  in  his  ranks. 

Prompted  by  a  motive  which  even  his  own  analy- 
tical mind  could  not  define,  the  Secretary  sought 
Lucia  Catherwood.  He  admired  her  height,  her 
strength  and  resolved  beauty — knew  that  she  was  of 
a  type  as  admirable  as  it  was  rare,  and  wondered  once 
or  twice  why  he  did  not  love  her  instead  of  Helen 
Harley.  Here  was  a  woman  with  a  mind  akin  to  his 
own — bold,  keen  and  penetrating.  And  that  face 
and  figure  !  He  wished  he  could  see  her  in  a  drawing- 
room,  dressed  as  she  should  be,  and  with  the  lights 
burning  softly  overhead.  Then  she  would  be  indeed 
a  princess,  if  there  were  any  such  beings,  in  the  true 
meaning  of  the  word,  on  this  earth.  She  would  be  a 
fit  wife  for  a  great  man — the  greater  half  of  himself. 
269 


270  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

But  he  did  not  love  her;  he  loved  Helen  Harley — 
the  Secretary  confessed  it  to  himself  with  a  smothered 
half-sigh.  At  times  he  was  pleased  with  this  sole  and 
recently  discovered  weak  spot  in  his  nature,  because 
it  brought  to  him  some  fresh  and  pleasing  emotions, 
not  at  all  akin  to  any  that  he  had  ever  felt  before ;  but 
again  it  troubled  him,  as  a  flaw  in  his  armour.  His 
love  for  Helen  Harley  might  interfere  with  his  prog- 
ress— in  fact,  was  doing  so  already,  but  he  said  to 
himself  he  could  not  help  it.  Now  he  was  moved 
to  talk  to  Lucia  Catherwood.  Dismounting  from 
his  horse,  he  took  a  place  by  her  side. 

She  was  walking  near  the  rear  of  the  column  and 
there  were  others  not  many  feet  away,  but  she  was 
alone  in  the  truest  sense,  having  a  feeling  of  personal 
detachment  and  aloofness.  These  people  were  kind 
to  her,  and  yet  there  was  a  slight  difference  in  their 
manner  toward  her  and  toward  one  another — a  differ- 
ence almost  imperceptible  and  perhaps  not  intended, 
but  sufficient  to  show  her  that  she  was  not  of  them. 
Just  now  it  gave  her  such  a  sense  of  loneliness  and 
exclusion  that  she  almost  welcomed  the  smile  of  the 
Secretary  when  he  spoke  to  her.  As  ready  to  recog- 
nize the  power  in  him  as  he  was  to  note  her  own 
strong  and  keen  mind,  she  waited  guardedly  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said,  "I  was  glad  to  assist 
you  in  your  plan  of  returning  to  Richmond,  but  I  have 
wondered  why  you  should  wish  to  return.  If  I  may 
use  a  simile,  Richmond  is  the  heart  of  the  storm,  and 
having  escaped  from  such  a  place,  it  seems  strange 
that  you  should  go  back  to  it." 

"There  are  many  other  women  in  Richmond,"  she 
replied,  "and  as  they  will  not  be  in  any  greater  danger 
than  I,  should  I  be  less  brave  than  they?" 

"But  they  have  no  other  choice." 

"Perhaps  I  have  none  either.  Moreover,  a  time  is 
coming  when  it  is  not  physical  courage  alone  that  will 
be  needed.  Look  back,  Mr.  Sefton." 

She  pointed  to  the  Wilderness  behind  them,  where 
they  saw  the  crimson  glow  of  flames  against  the  blue 
sky,  and  long,  trailing  clouds  of  black  smoke.  The 


OUT   OF   THE   FOREST  271 

low  mutter  of  guns,  a  continuous  sound  since  sunrise, 
still  came  to  their  ears. 

"The  flames  and  the  smoke,"  she  said,  "are  nearer 
to  Richmond  than  they  were  yesterday,  just  as  they 
were  nearer  yesterday  than  they  were  the  day  before." 

"It  is  yet  a  long  road  to  Richmond." 

"But  it  is  being  shortened.  I  shall  be  there  at  the 
end.  The  nearest  and  dearest  of  all  my  relatives  is 
in  Richmond  and  I  wish  to  be  with  her.  There  are 
other  reasons,  too,  but  the  end  of  which  I  spoke  is 
surely  coming  and  you  know -it  as  well  as  I.  Perhaps 
you  have  long  known  it.  As  for  myself,  I  have  never 
doubted,  despite  great  defeats." 

"It  is  not  given  to  men  to  have  the  faith  of  women." 

"Perhaps  not;  but  in  this  case  it  does  not  require 
faith :  reason  alone  is  sufficient.  What  chance  did  the 
South  ever  have  ?  The  North,  after  all  these  years, 
is  just  beginning  to  'be  aroused.  Until  the  present 
you  have  been  fighting  only  her  vanguard.  Some- 
times it  seems  to  me  that  men  argue  only  from 
passion  and  sentiment,  not  from  reason.  If  reason 
alone  had  been  applied  this  war  would  never  have 
been  begun." 

"Nor  any  other.  It  is  a  true  saying  that  neither 
men  nor  women  are  ever  guided  wholly  for  any  long 
period  by  reason.  That  is  where  philosophers, 
— ideologists,  Napoleon  called  them — make  their 
mistake,  and  it  is  why  the  science  of  government  is 
so  uncertain — in  fact,  it  is  not  a  question  of  science  at 
all,  but  of  tact." 

The  Secretary  was  silent  for  awhile,  but  he  still 
walked  beside  Miss  Catherwood,  leading  his  horse  by 
the  bridle.  Prescott  presently  glancing  back,  beheld 
the  two  together  and  set  his  teeth.  He  did  not  like 
to  see  Lucia  with  that  man  and  he  wondered  what  had 
put  them  side  by  side.  He  knew  that  she  had  a  pass 
from  Mr.  Sefton,  and  this  fresh  fact  added  to  his 
uneasiness.  Was  it  possible  those  two  had  a  secret 
in  common  ? 

The  Secretary  saw  the  frown  on  Prescott 's  face  and 
was  pleased,  though  he  spoke  of  him  and  his  great 
services.  "He  has  more  than  courage — he  has  sense 


272  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

allied  with  it.  Sometimes  I  think  that  courage  is 
one  of  the  commonest  of  qualities,  but  it  is  not  often 
that  it  is  supported  by  coolness,  discrimination  and 
the  ability  to  endure.  A  fine  young  man,  Robert 
Prescott,  and  one  destined  to  high  honours.  If  he 
survive  the  war,  I  should  say  that  he  will  become 
the  Governor  of  his  State  or  rise  high  in  Congress." 

He  watched  the  girl  closely  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye  as  he  spoke,  for  he  was  forming  various  plans  and, 
as  Lucia  Catherwood  was  included  in* his  compre- 
hensive schemes,  he  wished  to  see  the  effect  upon  her 
of  what  he  said,  but  she  betrayed  nothing.  So  far  as 
her  expression  was  concerned  Prescott  might  have 
been  no  more  to  her  than  any  other  chance  acquaint- 
ance. She  walked  on,  the  free,  easy  stride  of  her  long 
limbs  carrying  her  over  the  ground  swiftly.  Every 
movement  showed  physical  and  mental  strength. 
Under  the  tight  sleeve  of  her  dress  the  muscle  rippled 
slightly,  but  the  arm  was  none  the  less  rounded  and 
feminine.  '  Her  chin,  though  the  skin  upon  it  was 
white  and  smooth  like  silk,  was  set  firmly  and  marked 
an  indomitable  will. 

Curious  thoughts  again  flowed  through  the  frank 
mind  of  the  Secretary.  Much  of  his  success  in  life  was 
due  to  his  ability  to  recognize  facts  when  he  saw  them. 
If  he  made  failures  he  never  sought  to  persuade  him- 
self that  they  were  successes  or  even  partial  successes ; 
thus  he  always  went  upon  the  battlefield  with  exact 
knowledge  of  his  resources.  He  wondered  again  why 
he  did  not  fall  in  love  with  Lucia  Catherwood.  Here 
was  the  exact  complement  of  himself,  a  woman  with  a 
mind  a  fit  mate  to  his  own.  He  had  come  far  already, 
but  with  her  to  aid  him  there  were  no  heights  to 
which  he — no,  they — might  not  climb.  And  she  was 
beautiful — beautiful,  with  a  grace,  a  stateliness  and 
dignity  beyond  compare. 

Mr.  Sefton  glanced  down  the  column  and  saw  there 
a  head  upon  which  the  brown  hair  curled  slightly. 
The  eyes  were  turned  away,  but  the  Secretary  knew 
they  were  blue  and  that  there  was  something  in  the 
face  which  appealed  to  strong  men  for  protection. 
He  shook  his  head  slowly.  The  tricky  little  god  was 


OUT  OF   THE   FOREST  273 

making  sport  of  him,  James  Sefton,  the  invincible, 
and  he  did  not  like  it. 

A  sense  of  irritation  against  Lucia  Catherwood  rose 
in  Mr.  Sefton's  mind.  As  he  could  not  stir  her  in 
any  obvious  manner  by  speaking  of  Prescott,  he  felt 
a  desire  to  move  her  in  some  way,  to  show  his  power 
over  her,  to  compel  from  her  an  appeal  for  mercy. 
It  would  be  a  triumph  to  bring  a  woman  at  once  so 
strong  and  so  proud  to  her  knees.  He  would  not 
proceed  to  extreme  measures,  and  would  halt  at  the 
delicate  moment,  but  she  must  be  made  to  feel  that 
he  was  master  of  the  situation. 

So  he  spoke  again  of  her  return  to  Richmond, 
suggesting  plans  for  her  pleasant  stay  while  there, 
mentioning  acquaintances  of  his  whom  he  would  like 
her  to  know,  and  making  suggestions  to  which  he 
thought  she  would  be  compelled  to  return  answers 
that  would  betray  more  or  less  her  position  in  Rich- 
mond. 

She  listened  at  first  with  a  flush  on  her  face,  giving 
way  soon  to  paleness  as  her  jaw  hardened  and  her 
lips  closed  firmly.  The  perception  of  Lucia  Cather- 
wood was  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  Secretary,  and 
she  took  her  resolve. 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  she  said  at  length,  "I  am  firmly 
convinced  of  one  thing." 

"And  what  is  that  ?" 

"That  you  know  I  am  the  alleged  spy  for  whom 
you  were  so  long  looking  in  Richmond." 

The  Secretary  hesitated  for  an  answer.  Her 
sudden  frankness  surprised  him.  It  was  so  different 
from  his  own  methods  in  dealing  with  others  that  he 
had  not  taken  it  into  account. 

"Yes,  you  know  it,"  she  continued,  "and  it  may  be 
used  against  me,  not  to  inflict  on  me  a  punishment — 
that  I  do  not  dread — but  to  injure  the  character  and 
reputation  that  a  woman  loves — things  that  are  to  her 
the  breath  of  life.  But  I  say  that  if  you  choose  to 
use  your  power  you  can  do  so." 

The  Secretary  glanced  at  her  in  admiration,  the  old 
wonder  concerning  himself  returning  to  him. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  speak  in 


274  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

too  high  praise  of  your  courage.  I  have  never  before 
seen  a  woman  show  so  much.  Your  surmise  is 
correct.  You  were  the  spy  or  alleged  spy,  as  you 
prefer  to  say,  for  whom  I  was  looking.  As  for  the 
morality  of  your  act,  I  do  not  consider  that;  it  never 
entered  into  my  calculations;  but  in  going  back  to 
Richmond  you  realize  that  you  will  be  wholly  in  the 
power  of  the  Confederate  Government.  Whenever 
it  wants  you  you  will  have  to  come,  and  in  very  truth 
you  will  have  to  walk  in  the  straight  and  narrow 
path." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said,  with  a  proud  lifting  of 
her  head.  "I  will  take  the  risks,  and  if  you,  Mr. 
Sefton,  for  some  reason  unknown  to  me,  force  me  to 
match  my  wits  with  yours,  I  shall  do  the  best  I  can." 

The  haughty  uplift  of  her  neck  and  the  flash  of  her 
eye  showed  that  she  thought  her  "best"  would  be  no 
mean  effort,  but  this  attitude  appealed  to  the  Secretary 
more  than  a  humble  submission  ever  would  have  done. 
Here  was  one  with  whom  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
make  a  test  of  skill  and  force.  Certainly  steel  would 
be  striking  sparks  from  steel. 

"I  am  not  making  any  threats,  Miss  Catherwood," 
he  said.  "That  would  be  unworthy,  I  merely  wish 
you  to  understand  the  situation.  I  am  a  frank  man, 
I  trust,  and,  like  most  other  men,  I  seek  my  own 
advancement ;  it  would  further  no  interest  of  mine  for 
me  to  denounce  you  at  present,  and  I  trust  that  you 
will  not  at  any  time  make  it  otherwise." 

"That  is,  I  am  to  serve  you  if  you  call  upon  me." 

"Let  us  not  put  it  so  bluntly." 

"I  shall  not  do  anything  that  I  do  not  wish  to  do," 
she  said,  with  the  old  proud  uplift  of  her  head.  "And 
listen !  there  is  something  which  may  soon  shatter  all 
your  plans,  Mr.  Sefton." 

She  pointed  backward,  where  the  purplish  clouds 
hung  over  the  Wilderness,  whence  came  the  low, 
sullen  mutter,  almost  as  faint  as  the  distant  beat  of 
waves  on  a  coast. 

The  Secretary  smiled  deprecatingly. 

"After  all,  you  are  like  other  women,  Miss 
Catherwood.  You  suppose,  of  course,  that  I  stake 


OUT  OF   THE   FOREST  275 

my  whole  fortune  upon  a  single  issue,  but  it  is  not 
so.  I  wish  to  live  on  after  the  war,  whatever  its 
result  may  be,  and  the  tide  of  fortune  in  that  forest 
may  shift  and  change,  but  mine  may  not  shift  and 
change  with  it." 

"You  are  at  least  frank." 

"The  South  may  lose,  but  if  she  loses  the  world  will 
not  end  on  that  account.  I  shall  still  wish  to  play 
my  part.  Ah,  here  comes  Captain  Prescott." 

Prescott  liked  little  this  long  talk  between  Lucia 
and  the  Secretary  and  the  deep  interest  each  seemed 
to  show  in  what  the  other  said.  He  bore  it  with 
patience  for  a  time,  but  it  seemed  to  him,  though 
the  thought  was  not  so  framed  in  his  mind,  that  he 
had  a  certain  proprietary  interest  in  her  because  he 
had  saved  her  at  great  risk. 

The  Secretary  received  him  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
made  some  slight  remark  about  duty  elsewhere  and 
dropped  easily  away.  Prescott  waited  until  he  was 
out  of  hearing  before  he  said: 

"Do  you  like  that  man,  Miss  Catherwood  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.     Why?" 

"You  were  in  such  close  and  long  conversation  that 
you  seemed  to  be  old  friends." 

"There  were  reasons  for  what  we  said." 

She  looked  at  him  so  frankly  that  he  was  ashamed, 
but  she,  recognizing  his  tone  and  the  sharpness  of 
it,  was  not  displeased.  On  the  contrary,  she  felt  a 
warm  glow,  and  the  woman  in  her  urged  her  to  go 
further.  She  spoke  well  of  the  Secretary,  his  pene- 
trating foresight  and  his  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  its  people — men,  women  and  children.  Prescott 
listened  in  a  somewhat  sulky  mood,  and  she,  regarding 
him  with  covert  glances,  was  roused  to  a  singular 
lightness  that  she  had  not  known  for  many  days. 
Then  she  changed,  showing  him  her  softer  side,  for  she 
could  be  as  feminine  as  any  other  woman,  not  less  so 
than  Helen  Harley,  and  she  would  prove  it  to  him. 
Becoming  all  sunshine  with  just  enough  shadow  to 
deepen  the  colours,  she  spoke  of  a  time  when  the  war 
should  have  passed — when  the  glory  of  this  world  with 
the  green  of  spring  and  the  pink  of  summer  should 


276  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

return.  Her  moods  were  so  many  and  so  variable, 
but  all  so  gay,  that  Prescott  began  to  share  her 
spirits,  and  although  they  were  retreating  from  a 
lost  field  and  the  cannon  still  muttered  behind  them, 
he  forgot  the  war  and  remembered  only  this  girl 
beside  him,  who  walked  with  such  easy  grace  and 
saw  so  bright  an  outlook. 

Thus  the  retreat  continued.  The  able-bodied 
soldiers  of  the  brigade  were  drafted  away,  but  the 
women  and  wounded  men  went  on.  Grant  never 
ceased  his  hammer  strokes,  and  it  was  necessary  for 
the  Southern  leaders  to  get  rid  of  all  superfluous 
baggage.  Prescott,  singularly  enough,  found  him- 
self in  command  of  this  little  column  that  marched 
southward,  taking  the  place  of  his  friend  Talbot, 
lost  in  a  mysterious  way  to  the  regret  of  all. 

Mr.  Sefton  left  them  the  day  after  his  talk  with 
Lucia,  and  Prescott  was  not  sorry  to  see  him  go,  for 
some  of  his  uneasiness  departed  with  him.  Harley, 
vain,  fretful  and  complaining,  gave  much  trouble, 
yielding  only  to  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Markham, 
with  whom  Prescott  did  not  like  to  see  him,  but  was 
helpless  in  the  matter.  Helen  and  Lucia  were  the 
most  obedient  of  soldiers  and  gave  no  trouble  at  all. 
Helen,  a  warm  partisan,  seemed  to  think  little  of  the 
great  campaign  that  was  going  on  behind  her,  and  to 
concern  herself  more  about  something  else.  Yet  she 
was  not  unhappy — even  Prescott  could  see  it — and 
the  bond  between  her  and  Lucia  was  growing  stronger 
daily.  Usually  they  were  together,  and  once  when 
Mrs.  Markham  spoke  slightingly  of  the  "Northern 
woman,"  as  she  called  Lucia,  Helen  replied  with  a 
sharpness  very  remarkable  for  her — a  sharpness  that 
contributed  to  the  growing  coldness  between  them, 
which  had  begun  with  the  power  Mrs.  Markham 
exercised  over  Helen's  brother. 

Prescott  noticed  these  things  more  or  less  and 
sometimes  they  pained  him;  but  clearly  they  were 
outside  his  province,  and  in  order  to  give  them  no 
room  in  his  mind  he  applied  himself  more  diligently 
than  ever  to  his  duties,  his  wound  now  permitting 
him  to  do  almost  a  man's  work. 


OUT  OF  THE   FOREST  277 

They  marched  slowly  and  it  gave  promise  of  being 
a  long  journey.  The  days  grew  very  hot;  the  sun 
burned  the  grass,  and  over  them  hung  clouds  of 
steamy  vapour.  For  the  sake  of  the  badly  wounded 
who  had  fever  they  traveled  often  by  night  and 
rested  by  day  in  the  shade.  But  that  cloud  of  war 
never  left  them. 

The  days  passed  and  distant  battles  still  hung  on 
their  skirts.  The  mutter  of  the  guns  was  seldom 
absent,  and  they  yet  saw,  now  and  then,  on  the 
horizon,  flashes  like  heat-lightning.  One  morning 
there  was  a  rapid  beat  of  hoofs,  a  glitter  of  sabers 
issuing  from  a  wood,  and  in  a  moment  the  little 
convoy  was  surrounded  by  a  troop  of  cavalry  in  blue. 

"Only  wounded  men  and  women,"  said  their  leader, 
a  young  colonel  with  a  fine,  open  face.  "Bah,  we 
have  no  time  to  waste  with  them  !" 

He  bowed  contritely,  touching  his  hat  to  the  ladies 
and  saying  that  he  did  not  mean  to  be  ungallant. 
Then  in  a  moment  he  and  his  men  were  gone  at 
gallop  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  disappearing  in  a  whirlwind 
across  the  plain,  leaving  the  little  convoy  to  proceed 
at  its  leisure. 

Prescott  gazed  after  them,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hands.  "There  must  be  some  great  movement  at 
hand,"  he  said,  "or  they  would  have  asked  us  ques- 
tions, at  least." 

The  day  grew  close  and  sultry.  Columns  of  steamy 
vapour  moved  back  and  forth  and  enclosed  them, 
and  the  sun  set  in  a  red  mist.  At  night  it  rained,  but 
early  the  next  morning  the  mutter  of  the  cannon 
grew  to  a  rumble  and  then  a  storm.  The  hot  day 
came  and  all  the  east  was  filled  with  flashes  of  fire. 
The  crash  of  the  cannon  was  incessant,  and  in  fancy 
every  one  in  that  little  convoy  heard  the  tramping  of 
brigades  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs  as  the  horsemen 
rushed  on  the  guns. 

"They  have  met  again  !"  said  Lucia. 

"Yes,"  replied  Prescott.  "It's  Grant  and  Lee. 
How  many  great  battles  is  this  since  they  met  first 
in  the  Wilderness?" 

Nobody  could  tell ;  they  had  lost  count. 


278  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

The  tumult  lasted  about  an  hour  and  then  died 
away,  to  be  succeeded  by  a  stillness  intense  and 
painful.  The  sun  shone  with  a  white  glare.  No 
wind  stirred.  The  leaves  and  the  grass  drooped. 
The  fields  were  deserted ;  there  was  not  a  sign  of  life  in 
them,  either  human  or  animal.  The  road  lay  before 
them,  a  dusty  streak. 

None  came  to  tell  of  the  battle,  and,  oppressed 
by  anxiety,  Prescott  moved  on.  Some  horsemen 
appeared  on  the  hills  the  next  morning,  and  as  they 
approached,  Prescott,  with  indescribable  joy,  recog- 
nized in  the  lead  the  figure  of  Talbot,  whose  unknown 
fate  they  had  mourned.  Talbot  delightedly  shook 
hands  with  them  all,  not  neglecting  Lucia  Catherwood. 
His  honest  face  glowed  with  emotion. 

"I  am  on  a  scout  around  our  army  now,"  he  said, 
"and  I  thought  I  should  find  you  near  here  some- 
where. I  wanted  to  tell  you  what  had  become  of  me. 
I  was  captured  that  night  we  were  crossing  the  river — 
some  of  my  blundering — but  I  escaped  the  next  night. 
It  was  easy  enough  to  do  it.  There  was  so  much 
fighting  and  so  much  of  everything  going  on  that  I 
just  rose  up  and  walked  out  of  the  Yankee  camp. 
Nobody  had  time  to  pay  any  attention  to  me.  I 
got  back  to  Lee  somehow — I  knew  I  must  do  it,  as  he 
could  never  win  the  war  without  me — and  here  I  am." 

"There  was  a  battle  yesterday  morning;  we  heard 
it,"  said  Prescott. 

Talbot 's  face  clouded  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
drooped. 

"We  have  won  a  great  victory,"  he  said,  "but  it 
doesn't  pay  us.  The  Yankees  lost  twelve  or  fifteen 
thousand  men,  but  we  haven't  gained  anything. 
That  firing  you  heard  was  at  Cold  Harbour.  It  was  a 
great  battle,  an  awful  one.  I  hope  to  God  I  shall 
never  see  its  like  again.  I  saw  fifteen  thousand  men 
stretched  out  on  the  bloody  ground  in  rows.  I  don't 
believe  that  so  many  men  ever  before  fell  in  so  short 
a  time.  I  have  heard  of  a  whirlwind  of  death,  but 
I  never  saw  one  till  then. 

"We  had  gone  into  intrenchments  and  Grant 
moved  against  us  with  his  whole  army.  They  came 


OUT  OF  THE  FOREST  279 

on;  you  could  hear  'em,  the  tramp  of  regiments  and 
brigades,  scores  of  thousands,  and  the  sun  rising 
up  and  turning  to  gold  over  their  heads.  Our  cannon 
began.  What  a  crash  !  It  was  like  twenty  thunder- 
bolts all  at  once.  We  swept  that  field  with  tons  and 
tons  of  metal.  Then  our  rifles  opened  and  the 
whistling  of  the  bullets  was  like  the  screaming  of  a 
wind  on  a  plain.  You  could  see  the  men  of  that 
army  shoot  up  into  the  air  before  such  a  sheet  of 
metal,  and  you  heard  the  cracking  of  bon^s  like  the 
breaking  up  of  ice.  After  awhile  those  that  lived 
had  to  turn  back;  human  beings  could  not  stand 
more,  and  we  were  glad  when  it  was  all  over." 

Talbot  stayed  a  little  while  with  them.  Then  he 
and  his  men,  like  the  Northern  cavalry,  whirled  off  in  a 
cloud  of  dust,  and  the  little  convoy  resumed  its 
solemn  march  southward,  reaching  Richmond  in 
safety. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE    DESPATCH    BEARER 

Leaves  of  yellow  and  red  and  brown  were  falling, 
and  the  wind  that  came  up  the  valley  played  on  the 
boughs  like  a  bow  on  the  strings  of  a  violin.  The 
mountain  ridges  piled  against  each  other  cut  the 
blue  sky  like  a  saber's  edge,  and  the  forests  on  the 
slopes  rising  terrace  above  terrace  burned  in  vivid 
colours  painted  by  the  brush  of  autumn.  The 
despatch  bearer's  eye,  sweeping  peaks  and  slopes  and 
valleys,  saw  nothing  living  save  himself  and  his  good 
horse.  The  silver  streams  in  the  valleys,  the  vivid 
forests  on  the  slopes  and  the  blue  peaks  above  told 
of  peace,  which  was  also  in  the  musical  note  of  the 
wind,  in  the  shy  eyes  of  a  deer  that  looked  at  him  a 
moment  then  fled  away  to  the  forest ,  and  in  the  bubbles 
of  pink  and  blue  that  floated  on  the  silver  surface  of 
the  stream  at  his  feet. 

Prescott  had  been  into  the  far  South  on  a  special 
mission  from  the  Confederate  Government  in  Rich- 
mond  after  his  return  from  the  Wilderness  and  com- 
plete recovery  from  his  wound,  and  now  he  was  going 
back  through  a  sea  of  mountains,  the  great  range 
that  fills  up  so  much  of  North  Carolina  and  its  fifty 
thousand  square  miles,  and  he  was  not  sorry  to 
find  the  way  long.  He  enjoyed  the  crisp  air,  the 
winds,  the  burning  colours  of  the  forest,  the  deep 
blue  of  the  sky  and  the  infinite  peace.  But  the 
nights  lay  cold  on  the  ridges,  and  Prescott,  when  he 
could  find  no  cabin  for  shelter,  built  a  fire  of 
pine  branches  and,  wrapping  himself  in  his  blanket, 
slept  with  his  feet  to  the  coals.  The  cold  increased 
by  and  by,  and  icy  wind  roared  among  the  peaks  and 
brought  a  skim  of  snow.  Then  Prescott  shivered 
and  pined  for  the  lowlands  and  the  haunts  of  men. 
280 


THE  DESPATCH  BEARER  281 

He  descended  at  last  from  the  peaks  and  entered  a 
tiny  hamlet  of  the  backwoods,  where  he  found  among 
other  things  a  two-weeks-old  Richmond  newspaper. 
Looking  eagerly  through  its  meager  columns  to  see 
what  had  happened  while  he  was  buried  in  the  hills, 
he  learned  that  there  was  no  new  stage  in  the  war — 
no  other  great  battle.  The  armies  were  facing  each 
other  across  their  entrenchments  at  Petersburg,  and 
the  moment  a  head  appeared  above  either  parapet 
the  crack  of  a  rifle  from  the  other  told  of  one  more 
death  added  to  the  hundreds  of  thousands.  That 
was  all  of  the  war  save  that  food  was  growing  scarcer 
and  the  blockade  of  the  Southern  ports  more  vigilant. 
It  was  a  skilful  and  daring  blockade  runner  now  that 
could  creep  past  the  watching  ships. 

On  an  inside  page  he  found  social  news.  Richmond 
was  crowded  with  refugees,  and  wherever  men  and 
women  gather  they  must'  have  diversion  though  at 
the  very  mouths  of  the  guns.  The  gaiety  of  the 
capital,  real  or  feigned,  continued,  and  his  eye  was 
caught  by  the  name  of  Lucia  Catherwood.  There  was 
a  new  beauty  in  Richmond,  the  newspaper  said,  one 
whose  graces  of  face  and  figure  were  equaled  only  by 
the  qualities  of  her  mind.  She  had  relatives  of  strong 
Northern  tendencies,  and  she  had  been  known  to 
express  such  sympathies  herself;  but  they  only  lent 
piquancy  to  her  conversation.  She  had  appeared 
at  one  of  the  President's  receptions;  and  further  on 
Prescott  saw  the  name  of  Mr.  Sefton.  There  was 
nothing  by  which  he  could  tell  with  certainty,  but  he 
inferred  that  she  had  gone  there  with  the  Secretary. 
A  sudden  thought  assailed  and  tormented  him.  What 
could  the  Secretary  be  to  her?  Well,  why  not? 
Mr.  Sefton  was  an  able  and  insinuating  man.  More- 
over, he  was  no  bitter  partisan:  the  fact  that  she 
believed  in  the  cause  of  the  North  would  not  trouble 
him.  She  had  refused  himself  and  not  many  minutes 
later  had  been  seen  talking  with  the  Secretary  in 
what  seemed  to  be  the  most  confidential  manner. 
Why  had  she  come  back  to  Richmond,  from  which 
she  had  escaped  amid  such  dangers  ?  Did  it  not 
mean  that  she  and  the  Secretary  had  become  allies 


282  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

more    than   friends?     The    thought   would   not    let 
Prescott  rest. 

Prescott  put  the  newspaper  in  his  pocket  and  left  the 
little  tavern  with  an  abruptness  that  astonished  his 
host,  setting  out  upon  his  ride  with  increased  haste 
and  turning  eastward,  intending  to  reach  the  railroad 
at  the  nearest  point  where  he  could  take  a  train  to 
Richmond. 

His  was  not  a  morbid  mind,  but  the  fever  in  it 
grew.  He  had  thought  that  the  Secretary  loved 
Helen  Harley:  but  once  he  had  fancied  himself  in 
love  with  Helen,  too,  and  why  might  not  the  Secretary 
suffering  from  the  same  delusion  be  changed  in  the 
same  way  ?  He  took  out  the  newspaper  and  read  the 
story  again.  There  was  much  about  her  beauty,  a 
description  of  her  dress,  and  the  distinction  of  her 
manner  and  appearance.  The  President  himself, 
it  said,  was  charmed  with  her,  and  departing  from  his 
usual  cold  reserve  gave  her  graceful  compliments. 

This  new  reading  of  the  newspaper  only  added 
more  impetus  to  his  speed  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
same  day  he  reached  the  railroad  station.  Early 
the  next  morning  he  entered  Richmond. 

:.  His  heart,  despite  its  recurrent  troubles,  was  light, 
for  he  was  coming  home  once  more. 

The  streets  were  but  slightly  changed — perhaps  a 
little  more  bareness  and  leanness  of  aspect,  an  older 
and  more  faded  look  to  the  clothing  of  the  people 
whom  he  passed,  but  the  same  fine  courage  shone  in 
their  eyes.  If  Richmond,  after  nearly  four  years  of 
fighting,  heard  the  guns  of  the  foe  once  more,  she 
merely  drew  tighter  the  belt  around  her  lean  waist 
and  turning  her  face  toward  the  enemy  smiled  bravely. 

The  President  received  the  despatch  bearer  in  his 
private  room,  looking  taller,  thinner  and  sterner  than 
ever.  Although  a  Kentuckian  by  birth,  he  had  been 
bred  in  the  far  South,  but  had  little  of  that  far  South 
about  him  save  the  dress  he  wore .  He  was  too  cold ,  too 
precise,  too  free  from  sudden  emotion  to  be  of  the 
Gulf  Coast  State  that  sent  him  to  the  capital.  Prescott 
often  reflected  upon  the  odd  coincidence  that  the 
opposing  Presidents,  Lincoln  and  Davis,  should  have 


THE    DESPATCH    BEARER  283 

been  produced  by  the  same  State,  Kentucky,  and 
that  the  President  of  the  South  should  be  Northern 
in  manner  and  the  President  of  the  North  Southern 
in  manner. 

Mr.  Davis  read  the  despatches  while  their  bearer, 
at  his  request,  waited  by.  Prescott  knew  the  hope- 
less tenor  of  those  letters,  but  he  could  see  no  change 
in  the  stern,  gray  face  as  its  owner  read  them,  letter 
after  letter.  More  than  a  half-hour  passed  and  there 
was  no  sound  in  the  room  save  the  rustling  of  the 
paper  as  the  President  turned  it  sheet  by  sheet. 
Then  in  even,  dry  tones  he  said: 

"You  need  not  wait  any  longer,  Captain  Prescott; 
you  have  done  your  part  well  and  I  thank  you.  You 
will  remain  in  Richmond  until  further  orders." 

Prescott  saluted  and  went  out,  glad  to  get  into  the 
free  air  again.  He  did  not  envy  the  responsibility 
of  a  president  in  war  time,  whether  the  president  of 
a  country  already  established  or  of  one  yet  tentative. 
He  hurried  home,  and  it  was  his  mother  herself  who 
responded  to  the  sound  of  the  knocker — his  mother, 
quiet,  smiling  and  undemonstrative  as  of  old,  but 
with  an  endless  tenderness  for  him  in  the  depths  of 
her  blue  eyes. 

"Here  I  am  again,  mother,  and  un wounded  this 
time,"  he  cried  after  the  first  greeting;  "and  I  suppose 
that  as  soon  as  they  hear  of  my  arrival  all  the  Yankees 
will  be  running  back  to  the  North." 

She  smiled  her  quiet,  placid  smile. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  she  said,  and  from  her  voice  he 
could  not  doubt  her  seriousness,  "I'm  afraid  they 
will  not  go  even  when  they  hear  of  your  arrival." 

"In  your  heart  of  hearts,  mother,  you  have  always 
believed  that  they  would  come  into  Richmond. 
But  remember  they  are  not  here  yet.  They  were  even 
closer  than  this  before  the  Seven  Days,  but  they  got 
their  faces  burned  then  for  their  pains." 

They  talked  after  their  old  custom,  while  Prescott 
ate  his  luncheon  and  his  mother  gave  him  the  news 
of  Richmond  and  the  people  whom  he  knew.  He 
noticed  often  how  closely  she  followed  the  fortunes 
of  their  friends,  despite  her  seeming  indifference,  and, 


284  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

informed  by  experience,  he  never  doubted  the  accuracy 
of  her  reports. 

"Helen  Harley  is  yet  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Sefton," 
she  said,  "and  the  money  that  she  earns  is,  I  hear,  still 
welcome  in  the  house  of  the  Harleys.  Mr.  Harley  is  a 
fine  Southern  gentleman,  but  he  has  found  means  of 
overcoming  his  pride;  it  requires  something  to  sup- 
port his  state." 

"But  what  of  Helen?"  asked  Prescott.  He  always 
had  a  feeling  of  repulsion  toward  Mr.  Harley,  his 
sounding  talk,  his  colossal  vanity  and  his  selfishness. 

"Helen,  I  think,"  said  his  mother,  "is  more  of  a 
woman  than  she  used  to  be.  Her  mind  has  been 
strengthened  by  occupation.  You  won't  object, 
Robert,  will  you,  if  I  tell  you  that  in  my  opinion 
both  the  men  and  women  of  the  South  have  suffered 
from  lack  of  diversity  and  variety  in  interests  and 
ambitions.  When  men  have  only  two  ambitions,  war 
and  politics,  and  when  women  care  only  for  the  social 
side  of  life,  important  enough,  but  not  everything, 
there  can  be  no  symmetrical  development.  A 
Southern  republic,  even  if  they  should  win  this  war, 
is  impossible,  because  to  support  a  State  it  takes  a 
great  deal  more  than  the  ability  to  speak  and  fight 
well." 

Prescott  laughed. 

"What  a  political  economist  we  have  grown  to  be, 
mother!"  he  said,  and  then  he  added  thoughtfully: 
"I  won't  deny,  however,  that  you  are  right — at  least, 
in  part.  But  what  more  of  Helen,  mother?  Is 
Mr.  Sefton  as  attentive  as  ever  to  his  clerk?" 

She  looked  at  him  covertly,  as  if  she  would  measure 
alike  his  expression  and  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"He  is  still  attentive  to  Helen — in  a  way,"  she 
replied,  "but  the  Secretary  is  like  many  other  men: 
he  sees  more  than  one  beautiful  flower  in  the  garden." 

',What  do  you  mean,  mother?"  asked  Prescott 
quickly. 

His  face  flushed  suddenly  and  then  turned  pale. 
She  gave  him  another  keen  but  covert  look  from 
under  lowered  eyelids. 

"There's  a  new  star  in  Richmond,"   she  replied 


THE   DESPATCH   BEARER  285 

quietly,  "and  singular  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  a  star  of 
the  North.  You  know  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson  and 
her  Northern  sympathies:  it  is  a  relative  of  hers — a 
Miss  Catherwood,  Miss  Lucia  Catherwood,  who  came 
to  visit  her  shortly  after  the  battles  in  the  Wilderness 
— the  '  Beautiful  Yankee,'  they  call  her.  Her  beauty, 
her  grace  and  distinction  of  manner  are  so  great  that 
all  Richmond  raves  about  her.  She  is  modest  and 
would  remain  in  retirement,  but  for  the  sake  of  her 
own  peace  and  Miss  Grayson's  she  has  been  com- 
pelled to  enter  our  social  life  here. " 

"And  the  Secretary?"  said  Prescott.  He  was 
now  able  to  assume  an  air  of  indifference. 

"He  warms  himself  at  the  flame  and  perhaps 
scorches  himself,  too,  or  it  may  be  that  he  wishes 
to  make  some  one  else  jealous — Helen  Harley,  for 
instance.  I  merely  venture  the  suggestion;  I  do 
not  pretend  to  know  all  the  secrets  of  the  social  life 
of  Richmond." 

Prescott  went  that  very  afternoon  to  the  Grayson 
cottage,  and  he  prepared  himself  with  the  greatest 
care  for  his  going.  He  felt  a  sudden  and  strong 
anxiety  about  his  clothing.  His  uniform  was  old, 
ragged  and  stained,  but  he  had  a  civilian  suit  of  good 
quality. 

"This  dates  from  the  fall  of  '60,"  he  said,  looking 
at  it,  "and  that's  more  than  four  years  ago;  but  it's 
hard  to  keep  the  latest  fashions  in  Richmond  now. " 

However,  it  was  a  vast  improvement,  and  the 
change  to  civilian  garb  made  him  feel  like  a  man  of 
peace  once  more. 

He  went  into  the  street  and  found  Richmond  under 
the  dim  cold  of  a  November  sky,  distant  houses 
melting  into  a  gray  blur  and  people  shivering  as  they 
passed.  As  he  walked  briskly  along  he  heard  behind 
him  the  roll  of  carriage  wheels,  and  when  he  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  what  he  beheld  brought  the  red  to 
his  face. 

Mr.  Sefton  was  driving  and  Helen  Harley  sat  beside 
him.  On  the  rear  seat  were  Colonel  Harley  and 
Lucia  Catherwood.  As  he  looked  the  Secretary 
turned  back  and  said  something  in  a  laughing  manner 


286  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

to  Lucia,  and  she,  laughing  in  like  fashion,  replied. 
Prescott  was  too  far  away  to  understand  the  words 
even  had  he  wished,  but  Lucia's  eyes  were  smiling 
and  her  face  was  rosy  with  the  cold  and  the  swift 
motion.  She  was  muffled  in  a  heavy  black  cloak, 
but  her  expression  was  happy. 

The  carriage  passed  so  swiftly  that  she  did  not 
see  Prescott  standing  on  the  sidewalk.  He  gazed 
after  the  disappearing  party  and  others  did  likewise, 
for  carriages  were  becoming  too  scarce  in  Richmond 
not  to  be  noticed.  Some  one  spoke  lightly,  coupling 
the  names  of  James  Sefton  and  Lucia  Catherwood. 
Prescott  turned  fiercely  upon  him  and  bade  him 
beware  how  he  repeated  such  remarks.  The  man  did 
not  reply,  startled  by  such  heat,  and  Prescott  walked 
on,  striving  to  keep  down  the  anger  and  grief  that 
were  rising  within  him. 

He  concluded  that  he  need  not  hurry  now,  because 
if  he  went  at  once  to  the  little  house  in  the  cross 
street  she  would  not  be  there ;  and  he  came  to  an  angry 
conclusion  that  while  he  had  been  upon  an  errand 
of  hardship  and  danger  she  had  been  enjoying  all  the 
excitement  of  life  in  the  capital  and  with  a  powerful 
friend  at  court.  He  had  always  felt  a  sense  of  pro- 
prietorship in  her  and  now  it  was  rudely  shocked. 
He  forgot  that  if  he  had  saved  her  she  had  saved 
him.  It  never  occurred  to  him  in  his  glowing  youth 
that  she  had  an  entire  right  to  love  and  marry  James 
Sefton  if  fate  so  decreed. 

He  walked  back  and  forth  so  angrily  and  so  thor- 
oughly wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he  noticed 
nobody,  though  many  noticed  him  and  wondered 
at  the  young  man  with  the  pale  face  and  the  hot 
eyes. 

It  was  twilight  before  he  resumed  his  journey  to  the 
little  house.  The  gray  November  day  was  thickening 
into  the  chill  gloom  of  a  winter  night  when  he  knocked 
at  the  well-remembered  door.  The  shutters  were 
closed,  but  some  bars  of  ruddy  light  shone  through 
them  and  fell  across  the  brown  earth.  He  was  not 
coming  now  in  secrecy  as  of  old,  but  he  had  come  with 
a  better  heart  then. 


THE   DESPATCH    BEARER  287 

It  was  Lucia  herself  who  opened  the  door — Lucia, 
with  a  softer  face  than  in  the  earlier  time,  but  with  a 
royal  dignity  that  he  had  never  seen  in  any  other 
woman,  and  he  had  seen  women  who  were  royal  by 
birth.  She  was  clad  in  some  soft  gray  stuff  and  her 
hair  was  drawn  high  upon  her  head,  a  crown  of 
burnished  black,  gleaming  with  tints  of  red,  like  flame, 
where  the  firelight  behind  her  flickered  and  fell  upon  it. 

The  twilight  was  heavy  without  and  she  did  not  see 
at  once  who  was  standing  at  the  door.  She  put  up 
her  hands  to  shade  her  eyes,  but  when  she  beheld 
Prescott  a  little  cry  of  gladness  broke  from  her.  "Ah, 
it  is  you ! "  she  said,  holding  out  both  her  hands,  and 
his  jealousy  and  pain  were  swept  away  for  the 
moment. 

He  clasped  her  hands  in  the  warm  pressure  of  his 
own,  saying:  "  Yes,  it  is  I ;  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you  once  more. " 

The  room  behind  her  seemed  to  be  filled  with  a  glow, 
and  when  they  went  in  the  fire  blazed  and  sparkled 
and  its  red  light  fell  across  the  floor.  Miss  Grayson, 
small,  quiet  and  gray  as  usual,  came  forward  to  meet 
him.  Her  tiny  cool  hand  rested  in  his  a  moment,  and 
the  look  in  her  eyes  told  him  as  truly  as  the  words  she 
spoke  that  he  was  welcome. 

"When  did  you  arrive?"  asked  Lucia. 

"  But  this  morning, "  he  replied.  "  You  see,  I  have 
come  at  once  to  find  you.  I  saw  you  when  you  did 
not  see  me. " 

"When?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"In  the  carriage  with  the  Secretary  and  the 
Harleys, "  he  replied,  the  feeling  of  jealousy  and  pain 
returning.  "You  passed  me,  but  you  were  too  busy 
to  see  me." 

She  noticed  the  slight  change  in  his  tone,  but  she 
replied  without  any  self-consciousness. 

"Yes;  Mr.  Sefton — he  has  been  very  kind  to  us — 
asked  me  to  go  with  Miss  Harley,  her  brother  and 
himself.  How  sorry  I  am  that  none  of  us  saw  you. " 

The  feeling  that  he  had  a  grievance  took  strong 
hold  of  Prescott,  and  it  was  inflamed  at  the  new 
mention  of  the  Secretary's  name.  If  it  were  any 


288  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

other  it  might  be  more  tolerable,  but  Mr.  Sefton  was  a 
crafty  and  dangerous  man,  perhaps  unscrupulous  too. 
He  remembered  that  light  remark  of  the  bystander 
coupling  the  name  of  the  Secretary  and  Lucia  Gather- 
wood,  and  at  the  recollection  the  red  flushed  into  his 
face. 

"The  Secretary  is  able  and  powerful, "  he  said,  "  but 
not  wholly  to  be  trusted.  He  is  an  intriguer. " 

Miss  Grayson  looked  up  with  her  quiet  smile. 

"Mr.  Sefton  has  been  kind  to  us,"  she  said,  "and 
he  has  made  our  life  in  Richmond  more  tolerable. 
We  could  not  be  ungrateful,  and  I  urged  Lucia  to  go 
with  them  to-day." 

The  colour  flickered  in  the  sensitive,  proud  face  of 
Lucia  Catherwood. 

"But,  Charlotte,  I  should  have  gone  of  my  own 
accord,  and  it  was  a  pleasant  drive. " 

There  was  a  shade  of  defiance  in  her  tone,  and 
Prescott,  restless  and  uneasy,  stared  into  the  fire. 
He  had  expected  her  to  yield  to  his  challenge,  to  be 
humble,  to  make  some  apology;  but  she  did  not, 
having  no  excuses  to  offer,  and  he  found  his  own 
position  difficult  and  unpleasant.  The  stubborn  part 
of  his  nature  was  stirred  and  he  spoke  coldly  of  some- 
thing else,  while  she  replied  in  like  fashion.  He  was 
sure  now  that  Sefton  had  transferred  his  love  to  her, 
and  if  she  did  not  return  it  she  at  least  looked  upon 
him  with  favouring  eyes.  As  for  himself,  he  had 
become  an  outsider.  He  remembered  her  refusal  of 
him.  Then  the  impression  she  gave  him  once  that  she 
had  fled  from  Richmond,  partly  and  perhaps  chiefly  to 
save  him,  was  false.  On  second  thought  no  doubt  it 
was  false.  And  despite  her  statement  she  might 
really  have  been  a  spy !  How  could  he  believe  her 
now? 

Miss  Grayson,  quiet  and  observant,  noticed  the 
change.  She  liked  this  young  man,  so  serious  and 
steady  and  so  different  from  the  passionate  and  reck- 
less youths  who  are  erroneously  taken  by  outsiders 
to  be  the  universal  type  of  the  South.  Her  heart 
rallied  to  the  side  of  her  cousin,  Lucia  Catherwood, 
with  whom  she  had  shared  hardships  and  dangers  and 


THE    DESPATCH    BEARER  289 

whose  worth  she  knew;  but  with  the  keen  eye  of  the 
kindly  old  maid  she  saw  what  troubled  Prescott,  and 
being  a  woman  she  could  not  blame  him.  Taking 
upon  herself  the  burden  of  the  conversation,  she  asked 
Prescott  about  his  southern  journey,  and  as  he  told 
her  of  the  path  that  led  him  through  mountains,  the 
glory  of  the  autumn  woods  and  the  peace  of  the 
wilderness,  there  was  a  little  bitterness  in  his  tone  in 
referring  to  those  lonesome  but  happy  days.  He  had 
felt  then  that  he  was  coming  north  to  the  struggles 
and  passions  of  a  battleground,  and  now  he  was  finding 
the  premonition  true  in  more  senses  than  one. 

Lucia  sat  in  the  far  corner  of  the  little  room  where 
the  flickering  firelight  fell  across  her  face  and  dress. 
They  had  not  lighted  candle  nor  lamp,  but  the  rich 
tints  in  her  hair  gleamed  wtih  a  deeper  sheen  when 
the  glow  of  the  flames  fell  across  it.  Prescott's 
former  sense  of  proprietorship  was  going,  and  she 
seemed  more  beautiful,  more  worth  the  effort  of  a 
lifetime  than  ever  before.  Here  was  a  woman  of 
mind  and  heart,  one  not  bounded  by  narrow  sectional- 
ism, but  seeing  the  good  wherever  it  might  be.  He 
felt  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  prig  and  a  fool.  Why 
should  he  be  influenced  by  the  idle  words  of  some  idle 
man  in  the  street  ?  He  was  not  Lucia  Catherwood's 
guardian;  if  there  were  any  question  of  guardianship, 
she  was  much  better  fitted  to  be  the  guardian  of 
him. 

Had  he  obeyed  this  rush  of  feeling  he  would  have 
swept  away  all  constraint  by  words  abrupt,  disjointed 
perhaps,  but  alive  with  sincerity,  and  Miss  Grayson 
gave  him  ample  opportunity  by  slipping  with  excuses 
into  the  next  room.  The  pride  and  stubbornness  in 
Prescott's  nature  were  tenacious  and  refused  to  die. 
Although  wishing  to  say  words  that  would  undo  the 
effect  of  those  already  spoken,  he  spoke  instead  of 
something  else — topics  foreign  then  to  the  heart  of 
either — of  the  war,  the  social  life  of  Richmond.  Miss 
Harley  was  still  a  great  favourite  in  the  capital  and 
the  Secretary  paid  her  much  attention,  so  Lucia  said 
without  the  slightest  change  in  her  tone.  Helen's 
brother  had  made  several  visits  to  Richmond ;  General 


29o  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Wood  had  come  once,  and  Mr.  Talbot  once.  Mr. 
Talbot — and  now  she  smiled — was  overpowered  on 
his  last  visit.  Some  Northern  prisoners  had  told  how 
the  vanguard  of  their  army  was  held  back  in  the 
darkness  at  the  passage  of  the  river  by  a  single  man 
who  was  taken  prisoner,  but  not  until  he  had  given 
his  beaten  brigade  time  to  escape.  That  man  was 
discovered  to  be  Talbot  and  he  had  fled  from 
Richmond  to  escape  an  excess  of  attention  and 
compliments. 

"And  it  was  old  Talbot  who  saved  us  from  cap- 
ture," said  Prescott.  "I've  often  wondered  why  we 
were  not  pursued  more  closely  that  night.  And  he 
never  said  anything  about  it. " 

"Mrs.  Markham,  too,  is  in  Richmond,"  Lucia 
continued,  "and  she  is,  perhaps,  the  most  conspicuous 
of  its  social  lights.  General  Markham  is  at  the  front 
with  the  army" — here  she  stopped  abruptly  and  the 
colour  came  into  her  face.  But  Prescott  guessed  the 
rest.  Colonel  Harley  was  constantly  in  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  train  and  that  was  why  he  came  so  often  to 
Richmond.  The  capital  was  not  without  its  gossip. 

The  flames  died  down  and  a  red-and-yellow  glow 
came  from  the  heart  of  the  coals.  The  light  now 
gleamed  only  at  times  on  the  face  of  Lucia  Gather- 
wood.  It  seemed  to  Prescott  (or  was  it  fancy)  that 
by  this  flickering  radiance  he  saw  a  pathetic  look  on 
her  face — a  little  touch  of  appeal.  Again  he  felt  a 
great  wave  of  tenderness  and  of  reverence,  too.  She 
was  far  better  than  he.  Words  of  humility  and 
apology  leaped  once  more  to  the  end  of  his  tongue, 
but  they  did  not  pass  his  lips.  He  could  not  say 
them.  His  stubborn  pride  still  controlled  and  he 
rambled  on  with  commonplace  and  idle  talk. 

Miss  Grayson  came  back  bearing  a  lamp,  and  by 
chance,  as  it  were,  she  let  its  flame  fall  first  upon  the 
face  of  the  man  and  then  upon  the  face  of  the  woman, 
and  she  felt  a  little  thrill  of  disappointment  when  she 
noted  the  result  in  either  case.  Miss  Charlotte 
Grayson  was  one  of  the  gentlest  of  fine  old  maids, 
and  her  heart  was  soft  within  her.  She  remembered 
the  long  vigils  of  Prescott,  his  deep  sympathy,  the 


THE    DESPATCH    BEARER  291 

substantial  help  that  he  had  given,  and,  at  last,  how, 
at  the  risk  of  his  own  career,  he  had  helped  Lucia 
Catherwood  to  escape  from  Richmond  and  danger. 
She  marked  the  coldness  and  constraint  still  in  the 
air  and  was  sorry,  but  knew  not  what  to  do. 

Prescott  rose  presently  and  said  good-night, 
expressing  the  hope  that  it  would  not  be  long  until  he 
again  saw  them  both.  Lucia  echoed  his  hope  in  a 
like  formal  fashion  and  Prescott  went  out.  He  did 
not  look  back  to  see  if  the  light  from  the  window  still 
fell  across  the  brown  grass,  but  hurried  away  in  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE     MOUNTAIN     GENERAL 

It  was  a  bleak,  cold  night  and  Prescott's  feelings 
were  of  the  same  tenor.  The  distant  buildings 
seemed  to  swim  in  a  raw  mist  and  pedestrians  fled 
from  the  streets.  Prescott  walked  along  in  aimless 
fashion  until  he  was  hailed  by  a  dark  man  on  a  dark 
horse,  who  wished  to  know  if  he  were  going  "to  walk 
right  over  us,"  but  the  rough  words  were  belied  by 
joviality  and  welcome. 

Prescott  came  out  of  his  cloud  and,  looking  up, 
recognized  the  great  cavalryman,  Wood.  His  huge 
beard  seemed  bigger  than  ever,  but  his  keen  eyes 
shone  in  the  black  tangle  as  if  they  were  looking 
through  the  holes  in  a  mask. 

"What  ails  you,  boy?"  he  asked  Prescott.  "You 
were  goin'  to  walk  right  into  me,  horse  an'  all,  an'  I 
don't  believe  you'd  have  seen  a  house  if  it  had  been 
planted  right  in  your  path  ! " 

"It's  true  I  was  thinking  of  something  else," 
replied  Prescott  with  a  smile,  "and  did  not  see  what 
was  about  me;  but  how  are  you,  General?" 

Wood  regarded  him  closely  for  a  moment  or  two 
before  replying  and  then  said: 

"All  right  as  far  as  that  goes,  but  I  can't  say  things 
are  movin'  well  for  our  side.  We're  in  a  deadlock 
down  there  at  Petersburg,  and  here  comes  winter, 
loaded  with  snow  an'  hail  an'  ice,  if  signs  count  for 
anythin'.  Mighty  little  for  a  cavalryman  to  do  right 
now,  so  I  just  got  leave  of  absence  from  General  Lee, 
an'  I've  run  up  to  Richmond  for  a  day  or  two. " 

Then  the  big  man  laughed  in  an  embarrassed  way, 
and  Prescott,  looking  up  at  him,  knew  that  his  face 
was  turning  red  could  it  but  be  seen. 

"A  man  may  employ  his  time  well  in  Richmond, 

392 


THE   MOUNTAIN  GENERAL  293 

General,"  said  Prescott,  feeling  a  sudden  and  not 
unsympathetic  desire  to  draw  him  out. 

The  General  merely  nodded  in  reply  and  Prescott 
looked  at  him  again  and  more  closely.  The  youth 
of  General  Wood  and  himself  had  been  so  different 
that  he  had  never  before  recognized  what  there  was 
in  this  illiterate  man  to  attract  a  cultivated  woman. 

The  crude  mountaineer  had  seemed  to  him  hitherto 
to  be  a  soldier  and  nothing  else;  and  soldiership 
alone,  in  Prescott 's  opinion,  was  very  far  from  making 
up  the  full  complement  of  a  man.  The  General 
sitting  there  on  his  horse  in  the  darkness  was  so  strong, 
so  masterful,  so  deeply  touched  with  what  appeared 
to  be  the  romantic  spirit,  that  Prescott  could  readily 
understand  his  attraction  for  a  woman  of  a  position 
originally  different  in  life.  His  feeling  of  sympathy 
grew  stronger.  Here  at  least  was  a  man  direct  and 
honest,  not  evasive  and  doubtful. 

"General,"  he  said  with  abrupt  frankness,  "you 
have  come  to  Richmond  to  see  Miss  Harley  and  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  I  wish  you  the  utmost 
success." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  the  great  mountaineer 
enclosed  it  in  an  iron  grasp.  Then  Wood  dismounted, 
threw  his  bridle  over  his  arm  and  said : 

"S'pose  we  go  along  together  for  awhile  ?  " 

They  walked  a  minute  or  two  in  silence,  the  General 
running  his  fingers  nervously  through  his  thick  black 
beard. 

"See  here,  Prescott,"  he  said  at  last,  "you've  spoke 
plain  to  me  an'  I'll  do  the  same  to  you.  You  wished 
me  success  with  Miss  Harley.  Why,  I  thought  once 
that  you  stood  in  the  way  of  me  or  any  other  man." 

"Not  so,  General;  you  credit  me  with  far  more 
attractions  than  I  have,"  replied  Prescott  deliberately. 
"Miss  Harley  and  I  were  children  together  and  you 
know  that  is  a  tie.  She  likes  me,  I  am  sure,  but 
nothing  more.  And  I — well  I  admire  her  tremen- 
dously, but " 

He  hesitated  and  then  stopped.  The  mountaineer 
gave  him  a  sudden  keen  glance  and  laughed  softly. 

"There's  somebody  else  ?"  he  said. 


294  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Prescott  was  silent  but  the  mountaineer  was 
satisfied. 

"See  here,  Prescott,"  he  exclaimed  with  great 
heartiness.  "Let's  wish  each  other  success." 

Their  hands  closed  again  in  a  firm  grasp. 

"There's  that  man  Sefton,"  resumed  the  moun- 
taineer, "but  I'm  not  so  much  afraid  of  him  as  I  was 
of  you.  He's  cunnin'  and  powerful,  but  I  don't  think 
he's  the  kind  of  man  women  like.  He  kinder  gets 
their  teeth  on  edge.  They're  afraid  of  him  without 
admirin'  his  strength.  There's  two  kinds  of  strong 
men :  the  kind  that  women  are  afraid  of  an'  like  and 
the  kind  that  they're  afraid  of  an'  don't  like;  an'  I 
think  Sefton  falls  into  the  last  class." 

Prescott 's  liking  for  his  companion  increased,  and 
mingled  with  it  was  a  growing  admiration  wholly 
aside  from  his  respect  for  him  as  a  soldier.  He  was 
showing  observation  or  intuition  of  a  high  order. 
The  General's  heart  was  full.  He  had  all  of  the 
mountaineer's  reserve  and  taciturnity,  but  now  after 
years  of  repression  and  at  the  touch  of  real  sympathy 
his  feelings  overflowed. 

"See  here,  Prescott,"  he  said  abruptly,  "I  once 
thought  it  was  wrong  for  me  to  love  Helen  Harley — 
the  difference  between  us  is  so  great — and  maybe  I 
think  so  yet,  but  I'm  goin'  to  try  to  win  her  anyhow. 
I'm  just  that  deep  in  love,  and  maybe  the  good  God 
will  forgive  me,  because  I  can't  help  it.  I  loved 
that  girl  the  first  time  I  ever  set  eyes  on  her;  I  wasn't 
asked  about  it,  I  just  had  to." 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go  ahead 
and  win  her,"  said  the  other,  warmly. 

"Prescott,"  continued  the  mountaineer,  "you 
don't  know  all  that  I've  been." 

"It's  nothing  dishonest,  that  I'd  swear." 

"It's  not  that,  but  look  where  I  started.  I  was 
born  in  the  mountains  back  there,  an'  I  tell  you  we 
weren't  much  above  the  wild  animals  that  live  in 
them  same  mountains.  There  was  just  one  room  to 
our  log  house — one  for  father,  mother  and  all  of  us.  I 
never  was  taught  nothin'.  I  didn't  learn  to  read  till 
I  was  twenty  years  old  and  the  big  words  still  bother 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GENERAL  295 

me.  I  went  barefoot  six  months  every  year  till  I  was  a 
man  grown.  Why,  my  cavalry  boots  pinch  me  now." 

He  uttered  the  lamentation  of  the  bo«ts  with 
such  tragic  pathos  that  Prescott  smiled,  but  was 
glad  to  hide  it  in  the  darkness. 

"An*  I  don't  know  nothin'  now,"  resumed  the 
mountaineer  sadly.  "When  I  go  into  a  parlour  I'm 
like  a  bear  in  a  cage.  If  there's  anythin'  about  to 
break,  I  always  break  it.  When  they  begin  talkin' 
books  and  pictures  and  such  I  don't  know  whether 
they  are  right  or  wrong." 

"You  are  not  alone  in  that." 

"An*  I'm  out  of  place  in  a  house,"  continued 
the  General,  not  noticing  the  interruption.  "I 
belong  to  the  mountains  an'  the  fields,  an'  when  this 
war's  over  I  guess  I'll  go  back  to  'em.  They  think 
somethin'  of  me  now  because  I  can  ride  an'  fight,  but 
war  ain't  all.  When  it's  over  there'll  be  no  use  for  me. 
I  can't  dance  an'  I  can't  talk  pretty,  an'  I'm  always 
steppin'  on  other  peoples'  feet.  I  guess  I  ain't  the 
timber  they  make  dandies  of." 

"I  should  hope  not,"  said  Prescott  with  emphasis. 
He  was  really  stirred  by  the  big  man's  lament,  seeing 
that  he  valued  so  much  the  little  things  that  he  did 
not  have  and  so  little  the  great  things  that  he  did 
have. 

"General,"  he  said,  "you  never  shirked  a  battle  and 
I  wouldn't  shirk  this  contest  either.  If  I  loved  a 
woman  I'd  try  to  win  her,  and  you  won't  have  to 
go  back  to  the  mountains  when  this  war  is  over. 
You've  made  too  great  a  name  for  that.  We  won't 
give  you  up." 

Wood's  eyes  shone  with  satisfaction  and  gratitude. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  he  asked  earnestly. 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it,"  replied  Prescott  with  the 
utmost  sincerity.  "If  fortune  was  unkind  to  you  in 
the  beginning  nature  was  not  so.  You  may  not  know 
it,  but  I  think  that  women  consider  you  rather  good 
to  look  at." 

Thus  they  talked,  and  in  his  effort  to  console  another 
Robert  forgot  some  of  his  own  pain.  The  simple, 
but,  on  the  whole,  massive  character  of  Wood  appealed 


296  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

to  him,  and  the  thought  came  with  peculiar  force 
that  what  was  lacking  in  Helen  Harley's  nature  the 
tougher  fiber  of  the  mountaineer  would  supply. 

It  was  late  when  they  separated  and  much  later 
before  Prescott  was  able  to  sleep.  The  shadow  of  the 
Secretary  was  before  him  and  it  was  a  menacing 
shadow.  It  seemed  that  this  man  was  to  supplant 
him  at  every  turn,  to  appear  in  every  cause  his  suc- 
cessful rival.  Nor  was  he  satisfied  with  himself.  A 
small  but  audible  voice  told  him  he  had  behaved 
badly,  but  stubborn  pride  stopped  his  ear.  What  right 
did  he  have  to  accuse  her?  In  a  worldly  sense,  at 
least,  she  might  fare  well  if  she  chose  the  Secretary. 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  in  the  lobby  of  the  Spots- 
wood  Hotel  next  morning,  gathered  there  to  talk, 
after  the  Southern  habit,  when  there  is  nothing 
pressing  to  be  done,  and  conspicuous  in  it  were  the 
editors,  Raymond  and  Winthrop,  whom  Prescott  had 
not  seen  in  months  and  who  now  received  him  with 
warmth. 

"How's  the  Patriot?"  asked  Prescott  of  Raymond. 

"The  Patriot  is  resting  just  now,"  replied  Raymond 
quietly. 

"How  is  that — no  news?" 

"Oh,  there's  plenty  of  news,  but  there's  no  paper. 
I  did  have  a  little,  but  Winthrop  was  short  on  a 
supply  for  an  edition  of  his  own  sheet,  and  he  begged 
so  hard  that  I  let  him  have  mine.  That's  what  I  call 
true  professional  courtesy." 

"The  paper  was  so  bad  that  it  crumbled  all  to 
pieces  a  day  after  printing,"  said  Winthrop. 

"So  much  the  better,"  replied  Raymond.  "In 
fact,  a  day  is  much  too  long  a  life  for  such  a  sheet  as 
Winthrop  prints." 

The  others  laughed  and  the  talk  returned  to  the 
course  from  which  it  had  been  taken  for  a  moment 
by  the  arrival  of  Prescott.  Conspicuous  in  the  crowd 
was  the  Member  of  Congress,  Redfield,  not  at  all 
improved  in  appearance  since  the  spring.  His  face 
was  redder,  heavier  and  coarser  than  ever. 

"I  tell  you  it  is  so,"  he  said  oratorically  and  dog- 
matically to  the  others.  "The  Secretary  is  in  love 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GENERAL  297 

with  her.  He  was  in  love  with  Helen  Harley  once, 
but  now  he  has  changed  over  to  the  other  one." 

Prescott  shifted  uneasily.  Here  was  the  name  of 
the  Secretary  dogging  him  and  in  a  connection  that  he 
liked  least  of  all. 

"It's  the  '  Beautiful  Yankee,'  then,"  said  another,  a 
young  man  named  Garvin,  who  aspired  eagerly  to  the 
honours  of  a  ladykiller.  "I  don't  blame  him.  You 
don't  see  such  a  face  and  figure  more  than  once  in 
a  lifetime.  I've  been  thinking  of  going  in  there 
myself  and  giving  the  Secretary  something  to  do." 

He  flecked  a  speck  of  dust  off  his  embroidered 
waistcoat  and  exuded  vanity.  Prescott  would  have 
gone  away  at  once,  but  such  an  act  would  have  had 
an  obvious  meaning — the  last  thing  that  he  desired, 
and  he  stayed,  hoping  that  the  current  of  talk  would 
float  to  a  new  topic.  Winthrop  and  Raymond 
glanced  at  him,  knowing  the  facts  of  the  Wilderness 
and  of  the  retreat  that  followed,  but  they  said  nothing. 

"I  think  that  the  Secretary  or  anybody  else  should 
go  slow  with  this  Yankee  girl,"  said  Redfield.  "Who 
is  she — and  what  is  she  ?  Where  did  she  come  from  ? 
She  drifted  in  with  the  army  after  the  battles  in  the 
Wilderness  and  that's  all  we  know." 

"It's  enough,"  said  Garvin;  "because  it  makes  a 
delightful  mystery  which  but  adds  to  the  '  Beautiful 
Yankee's'  attractions.  The  Secretary  is  far  gone 
there.  I  happen  to  know  that  he  is  to  take  her  to 
the  President's  reception  to-morrow  night." 

Prescott  started.  He  was  glad  now  that  he  had 
not  humbled  himself. 

"At  any  rate,"  said  Redfield,  "Mr.  Sefton  can't 
mean  to  marry  her — an  unknown  like  that;  it  must 
be  something  else." 

Prescott  felt  hot  pincers  grip  him  around  the  heart, 
and  a  passion  that  he  could  not  control  flamed  to  his 
brain.  He  strode  forward  and  put  his  hand  heavily 
on  the  Member's  shoulder. 

"Are  you  speaking  of  Miss  Catherwood?"  he 
demanded. 

"I  am,"  replied  Redfield,  throwing  off  the  heavy 
hand.  "But  what  business  is  that  of  yours  ?" 


298  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"Simply  this;  that  she  is  too  good  and  noble  a 
woman  to  be  spoken  of  slightingly  by  you.  Such 
remarks  as  you  have  just  made  you  repeat  at  your 
risk." 

Redfield  made  an  angry  reply  and  there  were  all 
the  elements  of  a  fierce  encounter;  but  Raymond 
interfered. 

"Redfield,"  he  said,  "you  are  wrong,  and  moreover 
you  owe  all  of  us  an  apology  for  speaking  in  such 
a  way  of  a  lady  in  our  presense.  I  fully  indorse  all 
that  Captain  Prescott  says  of  Miss  Catherwood — I 
happen  to  have  seen  instances  of  her  glorious  unself- 
ishness and  sacrifice,  and  I  know  that  she  is  one  of 
God's  most  nearly  perfect  women." 

"And  so  do  I,"  said  Winthrop,  "and  I,"  "and  I," 
said  the  others.  Redfield  saw  that  the  crowd  was 
unanimously  against  him  and  frowned. 

"Oh,  well,  perhaps  I  spoke  hastily  and  carelessly," 
he  said.  "I  apologize." 

Raymond  changed  the  talk  at  once. 

"When  do  you  think  Grant  will  advance  again?" 
he  asked. 

"Advance?"  replied  Winthrop  hotly.  "Advance? 
Why,  he  can't  advance." 

"But  he  came  through  the  Wilderness." 

"If  he  did  he  lost  a  hundred  thousand  men,  more 
than  Lee  had  altogether,  and  now  he's  checkmated." 

"He'll  never  see  Richmond  unless  he  comes  to 
Libby,"  said  Redfield  coarsely. 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  said  Raymond  gravely.  "What- 
ever we  say  to  the  people  and  however  we  try  to  hold 
up  their  courage,  we  ought  not  to  conceal  the  facts 
from  ourselves.  The  ports  of  the  Confederacy  are 
sealed  up  by  the  Yankee  cruisers.  We  have  been 
shattered  down  South  and  here  we  are  blockaded 
in  Richmond  and  Petersburg.  It  takes  a  cartload  of 
our  money  to  buy  a  paper  collar  and  then  it's  a  poor 
collar.  When  I  bring  out  the  next  issue  of  my 
newspaper — and  I  don't  know  when  that  will  be — I 
shall  say  that  the  prospects  of  the  Confederacy  were 
never  brighter;  but  I  warn  you  right  now,  gentlemen, 
that  I  shall  not  believe  a  single  one  of  my  own  words." 


THE    MOUNTAIN   GENERAL  299 

Thus  they  talked,  but  Prescott  did  not  follow  them, 
his  mind  dwelling  on  Lucia  and  the  Secretary.  He 
was  affected  most  unpleasantly  by  what  he  had  heard 
and  sorry  now  that  he  had  come  to  the  hotel.  When 
he  could  conveniently  do  so  he  excused  himself  and 
went  home. 

He  was  gloomier  than  ever  at  supper  and  his 
mother  uttered  a  mild  jest  or  two  on  his  state  of  mind. 

"You  must  have  failed  to  find  any  friends  in  the 
city,"  she  said. 

"I  found  too  many,"  he  replied.  "I  went  to 
the  Spotswood  Hotel,  mother,  and  I  listened  there  to 
some  tiresome  talk  about  whipping  the  Yankees  out 
of  their  boots  in  the  next  five  minutes. " 

"Aren't  you  going  to  do  it  ?" 

Prescott  laughed. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  wouldn't  have  your  divided 
heart  for  anything.  It  must  cause  you  a  terrible  lot 
of  worry. " 

"I  do  very  well,"  she  said,  with  her  quiet  smile, 
"and  I  cherish  no  illusions." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


It  was  announced  that  the  presidential  reception 
on  the  following  evening  would  be  of  special  dignity 
and  splendour,  and  it  was  thought  the  part  of  duty 
by  all  who  were  of  consequence  in  Richmond  to 
attend  and  make  a  brave  show  before  the  world. 
Mr.  Davis,  at  the  futile  peace  conference  in  the  pre- 
ceding July,  had  sought  to  impress  upon  the  Northern 
delegates  the  superior  position  of  the  South.  "  It  was 
true,"  he  said,  "that  Sherman  was  before  Atlanta, 
but  what  matter  if  he  took  it  ?  the  world  must  have 
the  Southern  cotton  crop,  and  with  such  an  asset 
the  Southern  Republic  must  stand. "  He  was  not 
inclined  now  to  withdraw  in  any  particular  from  this 
position,  and  his  people  stood  solidly  behind  him. 

Prescott,  as  he  prepared  for  the  evening,  had  much 
of  the  same  spirit,  although  his  was  now  a  feeling  of 
personal  defiance  toward  a  group  of  persons  rather 
than  toward  the  North  in  general. 

"Are  you  going  alone?"  asked  his  mother. 

"Why,  yes,  mother,  unless  you  will  go  with  me, 
and  I  know  you  won't.  Whom  else  could  I  ask  ? " 

"  I  thought  that  you  might  take  Miss  Catherwood,  " 
she  replied  without  evasion. 

"No  chance  there  "  replied  Prescott,  with  a  light 
laugh. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Miss  Catherwood  would  scorn  a  humble  individual 
like  myself.  The  'Beautiful  Yankee'  looks  far  higher. 
She  will  be  escorted  to-night  by  the  brilliant,  the 
accomplished,  the  powerful  and  subtle  gentleman, 
the  Honourable  James  Sefton. " 

"You  surprise  me !"  said  his  mother,  and  her  look 
300 


CALYPSO  301 

was  indeed  full  of  astonishment  and  inquiry,  as  if 
some  plan  of  hers  had  gone  astray. 

"  I  have  heard  the  Secretary's  name  mentioned 
once  or  twice  in  connection  with  hers,"  she  said, 
"but  I  did  not  know  that  his  attentions  had  shifted 
completely  from  Helen  Harley.  Men  are  indeed 
changeable  creatures." 

"Are  you  just  discovering  that,  at  your  age, 
mother?"  asked  Prescott  lightly. 

"  I  believe  Lucia  Catherwood  too  noble  a  woman  to 
love  a  man  like  James  Sefton,"  she  said. 

"Why,  what  do  you  know  of  Miss  Catherwood?" 

His  mother  did  not  answer  him,  and  presently 
Prescott  went  to  the  reception,  but  early  as  he  was, 
Colonel  Harley,  the  two  editors  and  others  were  there 
before  him.  Colonel  Harley,  as  Raymond  termed  it, 
was  "extremely  peacocky. "  He  wore  his  most 
gorgeous  raiment  and  in  addition  he  was  clothed 
about  with  vanity.  Already  he  was  whispering  in 
the  ear  of  Mrs.  Markham,  who  had  renewed  her 
freshness,  her  youth  and  her  liveliness. 

"If  I  were  General  Markham,"  said  Raymond 
cynically,  "I'd  detail  a  guard  of  my  most  faithful 
soldiers  to  stand  about  my  wife. " 

"Do  you  think  she  needs  all  that  protection?" 
asked  Winthrop. 

"Well,  no,  slie  doesn't  need  it,  but  it  may  save 
others, "  replied  Raymond  with  exceeding  frankness. 

Winthrop  merely  laughed  and  did  not  dispute  the 
comment.  The  next  arrival  of  importance  was  that 
of  Helen  Harley  and  General  Wood.  Colonel  Harley 
frowned,  but  his  sister's  eyes  did  not  meet  his,  and  the 
look  of  the  mountaineer  was  so  lofty  and  fearless  that 
he  was  a  bold  man  indeed  who  would  have  challenged 
him  even  with  a  frown.  Helen  was  all  in  white,  and 
to  Prescott  she  seemed  some  summer  flower,  so  pure, 
so  snowy  and  so  gentle  was  she.  But  the  General, 
acting  upon  Prescott 's  advice,  had  evidently  taken 
his  courage  in  his  hands  and  arrayed  himself  as  one 
who  hoped  to  conquer.  His  gigantic  figure  was 
enclosed  for  the  first  time  since  Prescott  had  known 
him  in  a  well-fitting  uniform,  and  his  great  black 


302  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

mane  of  hair  and  beard  had  been  trimmed  by  one  who 
knew  his  business.  The  effect  was  striking  and 
picturesque.  Prescott  remembered  to  have  read 
long  ago  in  a  child's  book  of  natural  history  that  the 
black-maned  lion  was  the  loftiest  and  boldest  of  his 
kind,  and  General  Wood  seemed  to  him  now  to  be 
the  finest  of  the  black-maned  lions. 

There  was  a  shade  of  embarrassment  in  the  manner 
of  Helen  Harley  when  she  greeted  Prescott.  She,  too, 
had  recollections;  perhaps  she  had  fancied  once,  like 
Prescott,  that  she  loved  when  she  did  not  love.  But 
her  hesitation  was  over  in  a  moment  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  warmly. 

"We  heard  of  your  return  from  the  South," 
she  said.  "Why  haven't  you  been  to  see  us?" 

Prescott  made  some  excuse  about  the  pressure  of 
duty,  and  then,  bearing  his  friend's  interest  in  mind, 
spoke  of  General  Wood,  who  was  now  in  conversation 
some  distance  away  with  the  President  himself. 

"  I  believe  that  General  Wood  is  to-night  the  most 
magnificent  figure  in  the  South, "  he  said.  "  It  is  well 
that  Mr.  Davis  greets  him  warmly.  He  ought  to. 
No  man  under  the  rank  of  General  Lee  has  done  more 
for  the  Confederacy. " 

His  voice  had  all  the  accent  of  sincerity  and  Helen 
looked  up  at  him,  thanking  him  silently  with  her  eyes. 

"Then  you  like  General  Wood,"  she  said. 

"I  am  proud  to  have  him  as  a  friend  and  I  should 
dislike  very  much  to  have  him  as  an  enemy." 

Richmond  in  its  best  garb  and  with  its  bravest 
face  was  now  arriving  fast,  and  Prescott  drifted  with 
some  of  his  friends  into  one  of  the  smaller  parlours. 
When  he  returned  to  the  larger  room  it  was  crowded, 
and  many  voices  mingled  there.  But  all  noise  ceased 
suddenly  and  then  in  the  hush  some  one  said:  "There 
she  comes !"  Prescott  knew  who  was  meant  and  his 
anger  hardened  in  him. 

Miss  Catherwood  was  looking  unusually  well,  and 
even  those  who  had  dubbed  her  "The  Beautiful 
Yankee"  added  another  superlative  adjective.  A 
spot  of  bright  red  burned  in  either  cheek  and  she 
held  her  head  very  high.  "How  haughty  she  is!" 


CALYPSO  303 

Prescott  heard  some  one  say.  Her  height,  her 
figure,  her  look  lent  colour  to  the  comment. 

Her  glance  met  Prescott 's  and  she  bowed  to  him,  as 
to  any  other  man  whom  she  knew,  and  then  with  the 
Secretary  beside  her,  obviously  proud  of  the  lady  with 
whom  he  had  come,  she  received  the  compliments  of 
her  host. 

Lucia  Catherwood  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious 
that  everybody  was  looking  at  her,  yet  she  knew  it 
well  and  realized  that  the  gaze  was  a  singular  mixture 
of  curiosity,  like  and  dislike.  It  could  not  well  be 
otherwise,  where  there  was  so  much  beauty  to  inspire 
admiration  or  jealousy  and  where  there  were  sentiments 
known  to  be  different  from  those  of  all  the  others 
present.  A  mystery  as  tantalizing  as  it  was  seductive, 
together  with  a  faint  touch  of  scandal  which  some  had 
contrived  to  blow  upon  her  name,  though  not  enough 
really  to  injure  her  as  yet,  sufficed  to  give  a  spice 
to  the  conversation  when  she  was  its  subject. 

The  President  engaged  her  in  talk  for  a  few  minutes. 
He  himself,  clad  in  a  grayish-brown  suit  of  foreign 
manufacture,  was  looking  thin  and  old,  the  slight 
stoop  in  his  shoulders  showing  perceptibly.  But 
he  brightened  up  with  Southern  gallantry  as  he 
talked  to  Miss  Catherwood.  He  seemed  to  find  an 
attraction  not  only  in  her  beauty  and  dignity,  but 
in  her  opinions  as  well  and  the  ease  with  which  she 
expressed  them.  He  held  her  longer  than  any  other 
guest,  and  Mr.  Sefton  was  the  third  of  three,  facile, 
smiling,  explaining  how  they  wished  to  make  a 
convert  of  Miss  Catherwood  and  yet  expected  to  do 
so.  Here  in  Richmond,  surrounded  by  truth  and 
with  her  eyes  open  to  it,  she  must  soon  see  the  error 
of  her  ways;  he,  James  Sefton,  would  vouch  for  it. 

"I  have  no  doubt,  Mr.  Sefton,  that  you  will  con- 
tribute to  that  end,"  said  the  President. 

She  was  the  centre  of  a  group  presently,  and  the 
group  included  the  Secretary,  Redfield,  Garvin  and 
two  or  three  Europeans  then  visiting  in  Richmond. 
Prescott,  afar  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  watched  her 
covertly.  She  was  animated  by  some  unusual  spirit 
and  her  eyes  were  brilliant;  her  speech,  too,  was 


3o4  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

scintillating.  The  little  circle  sparkled  with  laughter 
and  jest.  They  undertook  to  taunt  her,  though  with 
good  humour,  on  her  Northern  sympathies,  and  she 
replied  in  like  vein,  meeting  all  their  arguments  and 
predicting  the  fall  of  Richmond. 

"Then,  Miss  Catherwood,  we  shall  all  come  to  you 
for  a  written  protection,"  said  Garvin. 

"Oh,  I  shall  grant  it,"  she  said.  "The  Union  will 
have  nothing  to  fear  from  you." 

But  Garvin,  unabashed  at  the  general  laugh  on 
himself,  returned  to  the  charge.  Prescott  wandered 
farther  away  and  presently  was  talking  to  Mrs. 
Markham,  Harley  being  held  elsewhere  by  bonds 
of  courtesy  that  he  could  not  break.  Thus  eddies  of 
the  crowd  cast  these  two,  as  it  were,  upon  a  rock 
where  they  must  find  solace  in  each  other  or  not  at  all. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  a  woman  of  wit  and  beauty. 
Prescott  often  had  remarked  it,  but  never  with  such  a 
realizing  sense.  She  was  young,  graceful,  and  with 
a  face  sufficiently  supplied  with  natural  roses,  and 
above  all  keen  with  intelligence.  She  wore  a  shade  of 
light  green,  a  colour  that  harmonized  wonderfully 
with  the  green  tints  that  lurked  here  and  there  in  the 
depths  of  her  eyes,  and  once  when  she  gazed  thought- 
fully at  her  hand  Prescott  noticed  that  it  was  very 
white  and  well  shaped.  Well,  Harley  was  at  least  a 
man  of  taste. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  pliable,  insinuating  and  com- 
plimentary. She  was  smitten,  too,  by  a  sudden 
mad  desire.  Always  she  was  alive  with  coquetry 
to  her  finger  tips,  and  to-night  she  was  aflame  with  it. 
But  this  quiet,  grave  young  man  hitherto  had  seemed 
to  her  unapproachable.  She  used  to  believe  him  in 
love  with  Helen  Harley;  now  she  fancied  him  in  love 
with  some  one  else,  and  she  knew  his  present  frame 
of  mind  to  be  vexed  irritation.  Difficult  conquests 
are  those  most  valued,  and  here  she  saw  an  oppor- 
tunity. He  was  so  different  from  the  others,  too, 
that,  wearied  of  easy  victories,  all  her  fighting  blood 
was  aroused. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  adroit,  and  did  not  begin  by 
flattering  too  much  nor  by  attacking  any  other 


CALYPSO  305 

woman.  She  was  quietly  sympathetic,  spoke  guard- 
edly of  Prescott's  services  in  the  war,  and  made  a 
slight  allusion  to  his  difference  in  temperament  from 
so  many  of  the  careless  young  men  who  fought  with- 
out either  forethought  or  present  thought. 

Prescott  found  her  presence  soothing;  her  quiet 
words  smoothed  away  his  irritation,  and  gradually, 
without  knowing  why,  he  began  to  have  a  better 
opinion  of  himself.  He  wondered  at  his  own  stupidity 
in  not  having  noticed  before  what  an  admirable 
woman  was  Mrs.  Markham,  how  much  superior  to 
others  and  how  beautiful.  He  saw  the  unsurpassed 
curve  of  her  white  arm  where  the  sleeve  fell  back, 
and  there  were  wonderful  green  tints  lurking  in  the 
depths  of  her  eyes.  After  all,  he  could  not  blame 
Harley — at  least,  for  admiration. 

They  passed  into  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  and 
Prescott's  sense  of  satisfaction  increased.  Here  was 
one  woman,  and  a  woman  of  beauty  and  wit,  too,  who 
could  appreciate  him.  They  sat  unnoticed  in  a  corner 
and  grew  confidential.  Once  or  twice  she  carelessly 
placed  her  hand  upon  his  coat  sleeve,  but  let  it  rest 
there  only  for  a  moment,  and  on  each  occasion  he 
noticed  that  the  hand  and  wrist  were  entirely  worthy 
of  the  arm.  It  was  a  small  hand,  but  the  fingers  were 
long,  tapering  and  very  white,  each  terminating  in  a 
rosy  nail.  Her  face  was  close  to  his,  and  now  and 
then  he  felt  her  light  breath  on  his  cheek.  A  thrill 
ran  through  his  blood.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  sit  in 
the  smile  of  a  witty  and  beautiful  woman. 

He  looked  up;  Lucia  Catherwood  was  passing  on 
the  arm  of  a  Confederate  general  and  for  a  moment 
her  eyes  flashed  fire,  but  afterward  became  cold  and 
unmoved.  Her  face  was  blank  as  a  stone  as  she 
moved  on,  while  Prescott  sat  red  and  confused. 
Mrs.  Markham,  seeming  not  to  notice,  spoke  of 
Miss  Catherwood,  and  she  did  not  make  the  mistake 
of  criticizing  her. 

"The 'Beautiful  Yankee'  deserves  her  name,"  she 
said.  "I  know  of  no  other  woman  who  could  become 
a  veritable  Helen  of  Troy  if  she  would." 

"If  she  would,"  repeated  Prescott;  "but  will  she?" 


3o6  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"That  I  do  not  know." 

"But  I  know,"  said  Prescott  recklessly;  "I  think 
she  will." 

Mrs.  Markham  did  not  reply.  She  was  still  the 
sympathetic  friend,  disagreeing  just  enough  to  incite 
triumphant  and  forgiving  opposition. 

"Even  if  she  should,  I  do  not  know  that  I  could 
wholly  blame  her,"  she  said.  "I  fancy  that  it  is  not 
easy  for  any  woman  of  great  beauty  to  concentrate 
her  whole  devotion  on  one  man.  It  must  seem  to 
her  that  she  is  giving  too  much  to  an  individual, 
however  good  he  may  be." 

"Do  you  feel  that  way  about  it  yourself,  Mrs. 
Markham?" 

"I  said  a  woman  of  great  beauty." 

"It  is  the  same." 

Her  serenity  was  not  at  all  disturbed  and  her  hand 
rested  lightly  on  his  arm  once  more. 

"You  are  a  foolish  boy,"  she  said.  "When  you  pay 
compliments,  do  not  pay  them  in  such  blunt  fashion." 

"I  could  not  help  it ;  I  had  too  good  an  excuse." 

She  smiled  slightly. 

"Southern  men  are  clever  at  flattery,"  she  said, 
"and  the  Northern  men,  they  say,  are  not;  perhaps 
on  that  account  those  of  the  North  are  more  sincere." 

"But  we  of  the  South  often  mean  what  we  say, 
nevertheless." 

Had  Prescott  been  watching  her  face,  he  might 
have  seen  a  slight  change  of  expression,  a  momentary 
look  of  alarm  in  the  green  depths  of  the  eyes — some 
one  else  was  passing — but  in  another  instant  her  face 
was  as  calm,  as  angelic  as  ever. 

She  spoke  of  Helen  Harley  and  her  brave  struggle, 
the  evident  devotion  of  General  Wood,  and  the  mixed 
comment  with  which  it  was  received. 

"Will  he  win  her?"  asked  Prescott. 

"I  do  not  know;  but  somebody  should  rescue  her 
from  that  selfish  old  father  of  hers.  He  claims  to  be 
the  perfect  type  of  the  true  Southern  gentleman — he 
will  tell  you  so  if  you  ask  him — but  if  he  is,  I  prefer 
that  the  rest  of  the  world  should  judge  the  South 
by  a  false  type." 


CALYPSO  307 

"But  General  Wood  is  not  without  rivals,"  said 
Prescott.  "I  have  often  thought  that  he  had  one  of 
the  most  formidable  kind  in  the  Secretary,  Mr. 
Sefton." 

He  awaited  her  answer  with  eagerness.  She  was  a 
woman  of  penetrating  mind  and  what  she  said  would 
be  worth  considering.  Regarding  him  again  with 
that  covert  glance,  she  saw  anxiety  trembling  on  his 
lips  and  she  replied  deliberately : 

"The  Secretary  himself  is  another  proof  why  a 
woman  of  beauty  should  not  concentrate  all  her 
devotion  on  one  man.  You  have  seen  him  to-night 
and  his  assiduous  attention  to  another  woman. 
Captain  Prescott,  all  men  are  fickle — with  a  few 
exceptions,  perhaps." 

She  gave  him  her  most  stimulating  glance,  a  look 
tipped  with  flame,  which  said  even  to  a  dull  intelli- 
gence— and  Prescott 's  was  not — that  he  was  one  of  the 
few,  the  rare  exceptions.  As  her  talk  became  more 
insinuating  her  hand  touched  his  arm  and  rested  there 
ten  seconds  where  it  had  rested  but  five  before. 
Again  he  felt  her  breath  lightly  on  his  cheek  and  he 
noticed  how  finely  arched  and  seductive  was  the  curve 
of  her  long  yellow  lashes.  He  had  felt  embarrassed 
and  ashamed  when  Lucia  Catherwood  saw  him  there 
in  an  attitude  of  devotion  to  Mrs.  Markham,  but  that 
sensation  was  giving  way  to  stubbornness  and  anger. 
If  Lucia  should  turn  to  some  one  else  why  might  not 
he  do  the  same  ? 

Yielding  himself  to  the  charms  of  a  perfect  face, 
a  low  and  modulated  voice  and  a  mind  that  never 
mistook  flippancy  and  triviality  for  wit,  he  met  her 
everywhere  on  common  ground,  and  she  wondered 
why  she  had  not  seen  the  attractions  of  this  grave, 
quiet  young  man  long  before  !  Surely  such  a  conquest 
— and  she  was  not  certain  yet  that  it  was  achieved — 
was  worth  a  half-dozen  victories  of  the  insipid  and 
over-easy  kind. 

An  hour  later  Prescott  was  with  Lucia  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  although  no  one  else  was  within  hearing, 
their  conversation  was  formal  and  conventional  to 
the  last  degree.  She  spoke  of  the  pleasure  of  the 


3o8  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

evening,  the  brave  show  made  by  the  Confederacy 
despite  the  pressure  of  the  Northern  armies,  and 
her  admiration  for  a  spirit  so  gallant.  He  paid  her 
a  few  empty  compliments,  told  her  she  was  the  shin- 
ing light  among  lesser  lights,  and  presently  he  passed 
out.  He  noticed,  however,  that  she  was,  indeed,  as 
he  had  said  so  lightly,  the  star  6f  the  evening.  The 
group  around  her  never  thinned,  and  not  only  were 
they  admiring,  but  were  anxious  to  match  wits  with 
her.  The  men  of  Richmond  applauded,  as  one  by 
one  each  of  them  was  worsted  in  the  encounter; 
at  least,  they  had  company  in  defeat,  and,  after  all, 
defeat  at  such  hands  was  rather  more  to  be  desired 
than  victory.  When  Prescott  left  she  was  still  a 
centre  of  attraction. 

Prescott,  full  of  bitterness  and  having  no  other 
way  of  escape  from  his  entanglement,  asked  to  be 
sent  at  once  to  his  regiment  in  the  trenches  before 
Petersburg,  but  the  request  was  denied  him,  as  it  was 
likely,  so  he  was  told,  that  he  would  be  needed  again 
in  Richmond.  He  said  nothing  to  his  mother  of 
his  desire  to  go  again  to  the  front,  but  she  saw  that 
he  was  restless  and  uneasy,  although  she  asked  no 
questions. 

He  had  ample  cause  to  regret  the  refusal  of  the 
authorities  to  accede  to  his  wish,  when  rumour  and 
vague  innuendo  concerning  himself  and  Mrs.  Markham 
came  to  his  ears.  He  wondered  that  so  much  had 
been  made  of  a  mere  passing  incident,  but  he  forgot 
that  his  fortunes  were  intimately  connected  with  those 
of  many  others.  He  passed  Harley  once  in  the  streets 
and  the  flamboyant  soldier  favoured  him  with  a  stare 
so  insolent  and  persistent  that  his  wrath  rose,  and  he 
did  not  find  it  easy  to  refrain  from  a  quarrel ;  but  he 
remembered  how  many  names  besides  his  own  would 
be  dragged  into  such  an  affair,  and  passed  on. 

Helen  Harley,  too,  showed  coldness  toward  him, 
and  Prescott  began  to  have  the  worst  of  all  feelings — 
the  one  of  lonesomeness  and  abandonment — as  if 
every  man's  hand  was  against  him.  It  begot  pride, 
stubbornness  and  defiance  in  him,  and  he  was  in  this 
frame  of  mind  when  Mrs.  Markham,  driving  her 


CALYPSO  309 

Accomack  pony,  which  somehow  had  survived  a 
long  period  of  war's  dangers,  nodded  cheerily  to  him 
and  threw  him  a  warm  and  ingratiating  smile.  It 
was  like  a  shaft  of  sunshine  on  a  wintry  day,  and 
he  responded  so  beamingly  that  she  stopped  by  the 
sidewalk  and  suggested  that  he  get  into  the  carriage 
with  her.  It  was  done  with  such  lightness  and  grace 
that  he  scarcely  noticed  it  was  an  invitation,  the 
request  seeming  to  come  from  himself. 

It  was  a  small  vehicle  with  a  narrow  seat,  and  they 
were  compelled  to  sit  so  close  together  that  he  felt 
the  softness  and  warmth  of  her  body.  He  was 
compelled,  too,  to  confess  that  Mrs.  Markham  was 
as  attractive  by  daylight  as  by  lamplight.  A  fur 
jacket  and  a  dark  dress,  both  close-fitting,  did  not 
conceal  the  curves  of  her  trim  figure.  Her  cheeks 
were  glowing  red  with  the  rapid  motion  and  the 
touch  of  a  frosty  morning,  and  the  curve  of  long 
•eyelashes  did  not  wholly  hide  a  pair  of  eyes  that  with 
tempting  glances  could  draw  on  the  suspecting  and 
the  unsuspecting  alike.  Mrs.  Markham  never  looked 
better,  never  fresher,  never  more  seductive  than  on 
that  morning,  and  Prescott  felt,  with  a  sudden  access 
of  pride,  that  this  delightful  woman  really  liked  him 
and  considered  him  worth  while.  That  was  a  genuine 
tribute  and  it  did  not  matter  why  she  liked  him. 

"May  I  take  the  reins  ?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  giving  him  one  more  of  those 
dazzling  smiles.  "You  would  not  rob  me,  would  you  ? 
I  fancy  that  I  look  well  driving  and  I  also  get  the  credit 
for  spirit.  I  am  going  shopping.  It  may  seem  strange 
to  you  that  there  is  anything  left  in  Richmond  to  buy 
or  anything  to  buy  it  with,  but  the  article  that  I  am 
in  search  of  is  a  paper  of  pins,  and  I  think  I  have 
enough  money  to  pay  for  it." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Prescott.  "My 
friend  Talbot  gave  five  hundred  dollars  for  a  paper 
collar.  That  was  last  year,  and  paper  collars  must 
be  dearer  now.  So  I  imagine  that  your  paper  of  pins 
will  cost  at  least  two  thousand  dollars." 

"I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  go  shopping  with  our 
Confederate  money.  I  carry  gold,"  she  replied. 


3io  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

With  her  disengaged  hand  she  tapped  a  little  purse 
she  carried  in  her  pocket  and  it  gave  forth  an  opulent 
tinkle. 

She  was  driving  rapidly,  chattering  incessantly, 
but  in  such  a  gay  and  light  fashion  that  Prescott's 
attention  never  wandered  from  herself — the  red  glow 
of  her  cheeks,  the  changing  light  of  her  eyes  and  the 
occasional  gleam  of  white  teeth  as  her  lips  parted  in  a 
laugh.  Thus  he  did  not  notice  that  she  was  taking 
him  by  a  long  road,  and  that  one  or  two  whom  they 
passed  on  the  street  looked  after  them  in  meaning 
fashion. 

Prescott  was  not  in  love  with  Mrs.  Markham,  but 
he  was  charmed.  Hers  was  a  soft  and  soothing  touch 
after  a  hard  blow.  A  healing  hand  was  outstretched 
to  him  by  a  beautiful  woman  who  would  be  adorable 
to  make  love  to — if  she  did  not  already  belong  to 
another  man,  such  an  old  curmudgeon  as  General 
Markham,  too  !  How  tightly  curled  the  tiny  ringlets 
on  her  neck !  He  was  sitting  so  close  that  he  could 
not  help  seeing  them  and  now  and  then  they  moved 
lightly  under  his  breath. 

He  remembered  that  they  were  a  long  time  in 
reaching  the  shop,  but  he  did  not  care  and  said  noth- 
ing. When  they  arrived  at  last  she  asked  him  to  hold 
the  lines  while  she  went  inside.  She  returned  in  a 
few  minutes  and  triumphantly  held  up  a  small 
package. 

"See,"  she  said,  "I  have  made  my  purchase,  but 
it  was  the  last  they  had,  and  no  one  can  say  when 
Richmond  will  be  able  to  import  another  paper  of 
pins.  Maybe  we  shall  have  to  ask  General  Grant." 

"And  then  he  won't  let  us,"  said  Prescott. 

She  laughed  and  glanced  up  at  him  from  under  the 
long,  curling  eyelashes.  The  green  tints  showed 
faintly  in  her  eyes  and  were  singularly  seductive. 
She  made  no  effort  to  conceal  her  high  good  humour, 
and  Prescott  now  and  then  felt  her  warm  breath  on  his 
cheek  as  she  turned  to  speak  to  him  in  intimate 
fashion. 

She  drove  back  by  a  road  not  the  same,  but  as  long 
as  before,  and  Prescott  found  it  all  too  short.  His 


CALYPSO  3n 

gloom  fled  away  before  her  flow  of  spirits,  her  warm 
and  intimate  manner,  and  the  town,  though  under 
gray  November  skies,  became  vivid  with  light  and 
colour. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "that  the  Mosaic  Club 
meets  again  to-night  and  perhaps  for  the  last  time  ? 
Are  you  not  coming?" 

"I  am  not  invited." 

"But  I  invite  you.  I  have  full  authority  as  a  mem- 
ber and  an  official  of  the  club." 

"I'm  all  alone,"  said  Prescott. 

"And  so  am  I,"  said  she.  "The  General,  you 
know,  is  at  the  front,  and  no  one  has  been  polite 
enough  yet  to  ask  to  take  me." 

Her  look  met  his  with  a  charming  innocence  like 
that  of  a  young  girl,  but  the  lurking  green  depths 
were  in  her  eyes  and  Prescott  felt  a  thrill  despite 
himself. 

"Why  not,"  was  his  thought.  "All  the  others 
have  cast  me  aside.  She  chooses  me.  If  I  am  to  be 
attacked  on  Mrs.  Markham's  account — well,  I'll  give 
them  reason  for  it." 

The  defiant  spirit  was  speaking  then,  and  he  said 
aloud : 

"If  two  people  are  alone  they  should  go  together 
and  then  they  won't  be  alone  any  more.  You  have 
invited  me  to  the  club  to-night,  Mrs.  Markham,  now 
double  your  benefaction  and  let  me  take  you  there." 

"On  one  condition,"  she  said,  "that  we  go  in  my 
pony  carriage.  We  need  no  groom.  The  pony  will 
stand  all  night  in  front  of  Mr.  Peyton's  house  if  neces- 
sary. Come  at  eight  o'clock." 

Before  she  reached  her  home  she  spoke  of  Lucia 
Catherwood  as  one  comes  to  a  subject  in  the  course 
of  a  random  conversation,  and  connected  her  name 
with  that  of  the  Secretary  in  such  a  manner  that 
Prescott  felt  a  thrill  of  anger  rise,  not  against  Mrs. 
Markham,  but  against  Lucia  and  Mr.  Sefton.  The 
remark  was  quite  innocent  in  appearance,  but  it 
coincided  so  well  with  his  own  state  of  mind  in  regard 
to  the  two  that  it  came  to  him  like  a  truth. 

"The  Secretary  is  very  much  in  love    with    the 


3i2  BEFORE  THE    DAWN 

'  Beautiful  Yankee,'  "  said  Mrs.  Markham.  "  He 
thought  once  that  he  was  in  love  with  Helen  Harley, 
but  his  imagination  deceived  him.  Even  so  keen  a 
man  as  the  Secretary  can  deceive  himself  in  regard  to 
the  gossamer  affair  that  we  call  love,  but  his  infatua- 
tion with  Lucia  Catherwood  is  genuine." 

"Will  he  win  her?"  asked  Prescott.  Despite 
himself,  his  heart  throbbed  as  he  waited  for  her 
answer. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  replied;  "but  any  woman 
may  be  won  if  a  man  only  knows  the  way  of 
winning." 

"A  Delphic  utterance,  if  ever  there  was  one,"  he 
said,  and  laughed  partly  in  relief.  She  had  not  said 
that  Mr.  Sefton  would  win  her. 

He  left  Mrs.  Markham  at  her  door  and  went  home, 
informing  his  mother  by  and  by  that  he  was  going 
to  a  meeting  of  the  Mosaic  Club  in  the  evening. 

"I  am  to  take  a  lady,"  he  said. 

"A  very  natural  thing  for  a  young  man  to  do," 
she  replied,  smiling  at  him.  "Who  is  it  to  be,  Miss 
Catherwood  or  Miss  Harley?" 

"Neither." 

"Neither?" 

"No;  I  am  in  bad  grace  with  both.  The  lady 
whom  I  am  to  have  the  honour,  the  privilege,  etc., 
of  escorting  is  Mrs.  Markham." 

Her  face  fell. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  she  said  frankly. 

Prescott,  for  the  first  time  since  his  childhood, 
felt  some  anger  toward  his  mother. 

"Why  not,  mother?"  he  asked.  "We  are  all  a 
great  family  here  together  in  Richmond.  Why,  if 
you  trace  it  back  you'll  probably  find  that  every  one 
of  us  is  blood  kin  to  every  other  one.  Mrs.  Markham 
is  a  woman  of  wit  and  beauty,  and  the  honour  and 
privilege  of  which  I  spoke  so  jestingly  is  a  real  honour 
and  privilege." 

"She  is  a  married  woman,  my  son,  and  not  careful 
enough  of  her  actions." 

Prescott  was  silent.  He  felt  a  marked  shyness  in 
discussing  such  questions  with  his  mother,  but  his 


CALYPSO  313 

obstinacy  and  pride  remained  even  in  her  mild  pres- 
ence. A  few  hours  later  he  put  on  his  cloak  and 
went  out  in  the  twilight,  walking  swiftly  toward  the 
well-kept  red  brick  house  of  General  Charles  Markham. 
A  coloured  maid  received  him  and  took  him  into  the 
parlour,  but  all  was  well-ordered  and  conventional. 
Mrs.  Markham  came  in  before  the  maid  went  out  and 
detained  her  with  small  duties  about  the  room. 

Prescott  looked  around  at  the  apartment  and  its  com- 
fort, even  luxury.  Report  had  not  wronged  General 
Markham  when  it  accused  him  of  having  a  quarter- 
master's interest  in  his  own  fortunes.  It  was  not  her 
fault  that  she  became  it  all  wonderfully  well,  but  even 
as  he  admired  her  he  wondered  how  another  would 
look  in  the  midst  of  this  dusky  red  luxury;  another 
with  the  ease  and  grace  of  Mrs.  Markham  herself,  with 
the  same  air  of  perfect  finish,  but  taller,  of  more 
sumptuous  build  and  with  a  nobler  face.  She,  too, 
would  move  with  soundless  steps  over  the  dark  red 
carpet,  and  were  she  sitting  there  before  the  fire,  with 
the  glow  of  the  coals  falling  at  her  feet,  the  room 
would  need  no  other  presence. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Mr.  Wise  Man,"  she 
said. 

"My  reward  should  be  greater,"  he  said,  fibbing 
without  conscience,  "because  I  was  thinking  of  you. " 

"In  that  event  we  should  be  starting,"  she  said 
lightly.  "Ben  Butler  and  the  family  coach  are  at 
the  door,  and  if  you  deem  yourself  capable  of  it, 
Sir  Knight,  I  think  that  I  shall  let  you  drive  this 
evening. " 

"  He  would  be  a  poor  captain  who  could  not  guide 
a  vessel  with  such  a  precious  cargo,"  said  Prescott 
gallantly. 

"  You  forget  that  you  are  a  part  of  the  cargo. " 

"  But  I  don't  count.  Again  it  was  you  of  whom  I 
was  thinking. " 

She  settled  herself  in  the  phaeton  beside  him — very 
close ;  it  could  not  be  otherwise — and  Ben  Butler,  the 
Accomack  pony,  obedient  to  the  will  of  Prescott, 
rattled  away  through  the  street.  He  recalled  how 
long  she  had  been  in  reaching  the  shop  by  day,  and 


3i4  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

how  long  also  in  returning,  and  now  the  spirit  of 
wickedness  lay  hold  of  him ;  he  would  do  likewise.  He 
knew  well  where  the  house  of  Daniel  Peyton  stood, 
having  been  in  it  many  times  before  the  war,  but  he 
chose  a  course  toward  it  that  bent  like  the  curve  of  a 
semicircle,  and  the  innocent  woman  beside  him  took 
no  notice. 

The  night  was  dark  and  frosty,  with  a  wind  out  of 
the  northwest  that  moaned  among  the  housetops,  but 
Prescott,  with  a  beautiful  woman  by  his  side,  was 
warm  and  cozy  in  the  phaeton.  With  her  dark  wrap 
and  the  dark  of  the  night  around  them  she  was 
almost  invisible  save  her  face,  in  which  her  eyes, 
with  the  lurking  green  shadows  yet  in  them,  shone 
when  she  looked  up  at  him. 

Ben  Butler  was  a  capable  pony  and  he  paid 
habitual  deference  to  the  wishes  of  his  mistress — 
the  result  of  long  training.  As  he  progressed  at  a 
gentle  walk  Prescott  scarcely  needed  one  hand 
for  his  guidance.  It  was  this  lack  of  occupation 
that  caused  the  other  to  wander  into  dangerous  prox- 
imity to  the  neat  and  well-gloved  fingers  of  Mrs. 
Markham,  which  were  not  far  away  in  the  first  place. 

"You  should  not  do  that,"  she  said,  removing  her 
hand,  but  Prescott  was  not  sorry — he  did  not  forget 
the  thrill  given  him  by  the  pleasant  contact,  and  he 
was  neither  apologetic  nor  humble.  The  lady  was  not 
too  angry,  but  there  appeared  to  Prescott  a  reproach- 
ful shadow — that  of  another  woman,  taller  and  nobler 
of  face  and  manner,  and  despite  his  manhood  years  he 
blushed  in  the  darkness.  A  period  of  constraint  fol- 
lowed; and  he  was  so  silent,  so  undemonstrative  that 
the  lady  gave  him  a  glance  of  surprise.  Her  hand 
strayed  back  to  its  former  place  of  easy  approach, 
but  Prescott  was  busy  with  Ben  Butler,  and  he  yielded 
only  when  she  placed  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  being 
forced  by  a  sudden  jolt  of  the  phaeton  to  lean  more 
closely  against  him.  But,  fortunately  or  unfor- 
tunately, they  were  now  in  front  of  the  Peyton  house, 
and  lights  were  shining  from  every  window. 

Prescott  stepped  out  of  the  phaeton  and  tied 
Ben  Butler  to  the  hitching-post.  Then  he  assisted 


CALYPSO  315 

Mrs.  Markham  to  the  ground  and  together  the  two 
entered  the  portico. 

"We  are  late,"  said  Prescott,  and  he  felt 
annoyance  because  of  it. 

"It  does  not  matter,"  she  said  lightly,  feeling  no 
annoyance  at  all. 

He  knew  that  their  late  entrance  would  attract 
marked  notice  to  them,  and  now  he  felt  a  desire  to 
avoid  such  attention;  but  she  would  make  of  it  a 
special  event,  a  function.  Despite  Prescott's  efforts, 
she  marshaled  himself  and  herself  in  such  masterly 
fashion  that  every  eye  in  the  room  was  upon  them  as 
they  entered,  and  none  could  help  noticing  that  they 
came  as  an  intimate  pair — or  at  least  the  skilful  lady 
made  it  seem  so. 

These  two  were  the  last — all  the  members  of  the 
club  and  their  guests  were  already  there,  and  despite 
the  bond  of  fellowship  and  union  among  them  many 
eyebrows  were  lifted  and  some  asides  were  spoken  as 
Mrs.  Markham  and  Prescott  arrived  in  this  fashion. 

Lucia  Catherwood  was  present — Raymond  had 
brought  her — but  she  took  no  notice,  though  her  bear- 
ing was  high  and  her  colour  brilliant.  Some  one  had 
prepared  her  for  this  evening  with  careful  and  loving 
hands — perhaps  it  was  Miss  Grayson.  All  the  minute 
touches  that  count  for  so  much  were  there,  and  in  her 
eyes  was  some  of  the  bold  and  reckless  spirit  that 
Prescott  himself  had  been  feeling  for  the  last  day 
or  two. 

This  little  company  had  less  of  partisan  rancour, 
less  of  sectional  feeling,  than  any  other  in  Richmond, 
and  that  night  they  made  the  beautiful  Yankee  their 
willing  queen.  She  fell  in  with  their  spirit:  there 
was  nothing  that  she  did  not  share  and  lead.  She 
improvised  rhymes,  deciphered  puzzles  and  prepared 
others  of  her  own  that  rivaled  in  ingenuity  the  best 
of  Randolph  or  Caskie  or  Latham  or  McCarty  or  any 
of  the  other  clever  leaders  of  this  bright  company. 
Prescott  saw  the  wit  and  beauty  of  Mrs.  Markham  pale 
before  this  brighter  sun,  and  the  Secretary  seemed  to 
be  the  chosen  favourite  of  Miss  Catherwood.  He 
warmed  under  her  favouring  glance,  and  he,  too, 


3i6  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

brought  forth  ample  measure  from  the  store  of 
his  wit. 

Harley  was  there  in  splendid  uniform,  as  always, 
but  somber  and  brooding.  Prescott  clearly  saw 
danger  on  the  man's  brow,  but  a  threat,  even  one 
unspoken,  always  served  to  arouse  him,  and  he 
returned  with  renewed  devotion  to  Mrs.  Markham. 
His  growing  dislike  for  Harley  was  tinctured  with  a 
strain  of  contempt.  He  accused  the  man's  vanity 
and  selfishness,  but  he  forgot  at  the  same  moment 
that  he  was  falling  into  the  same  pit. 

The  men  presently  withdrew  for  a  few  moments 
into  the  next  room,  where  the  host  had  prepared  some- 
thing to  drink,  and  a  good-natured,  noisy  crowd  was 
gathered  around  the  table.  The  noisiest  of  them  all 
was  Harley,  whose  manner  was  aggressive  and  whose 
face  was  inflamed,  as  if  he  had  made  himself  an 
undisputed  champion  at  the  bowl.  The  Secretary 
was  there,  too,  saying  nothing,  his  thin  lips  wrinkled 
in  a  slight  smile  of  satisfaction.  He  was  often  pleased 
with  himself,  rarely  more  so  than  to-night,  with  the 
memory  of  Lucia  Catherwood's  glorious  brow  and 
eyes  and  the  obvious  favour  that  she  showed  him. 
He  was  a  fit  mate  for  her,  and  she  must  see  it. 
Wisdom  and  love  should  go  together.  Truly,  all 
things  were  moving  well  with  him,  he  repeated 
in  his  thought.  Prescott  was  following  the  very 
course  he  would  have  chosen  for  him,  kneeling 
at  Mrs.  Markham's  feet  as  if  she  were  a  new 
Calypso.  The  man  whom  he  knew  to  be 
his  rival  was  about  to  embroil  himself  with 
everybody. 

If  he  wanted  more  evidence  of  his  last  inference, 
Harley  of  the  inflamed  face  and  threatening  brow 
was  quick  to  furnish  it.  When  Prescott  came  in 
Harley  took  another  long  draught  and  said  to  the 
crowd: 

"I  have  a  pretty  bit  of  gossip  for  you,  gentle- 
men." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Randolph,  and  all 
looked  up,  eager  to  hear  any  fresh  and  interesting 
news. 


CALYPSO  317 

"  It's  the  story  of  the  spy  who  was  here  last  winter, " 
replied  Harley.  "The  romance,  rather,  because  that 
spy,  as  all  of  you  know,  was  a  woman.  The  story 
will  not  down.  It  keeps  coming  up,  although  we 
have  a  great  war  all  about  us,  and  I  hear  that  the 
Government,  so  long  on  a  blind  trial,  has  at  last 
struck  the  right  one.  " 

"  Indeed, "  said  Randolph,  with  increased  interest. 
"What  is  it?  The  answer  to  that  puzzle  has  always 
bothered  me. " 

"They  say  that  the  spy  was  a  woman  of  great 
beauty,  and  she  found  it  impossible  to  escape  from 
Richmond  until  an  officer  of  ours,  yielding  to  her 
claims,  helped  her  through  the  lines.  I'll  wager  that 
he  took  full  pay  for  his  trouble. " 

"His  honour  against  hers,"  said  some  one. 

Harley  laughed  coarsely. 

Prescott  became  deathly  white.  He  would  have 
fought  a  duel  then  with  Harley — on  the  instant.  All 
the  Puritan  training  given  him  by  his  mother  and  his 
own  civilized  instincts  were  swept  away  by  a  sudden 
overwhelming  rush  of  passion. 

His  colour  came  back  and  none  noticed  its  momen- 
tary loss,  all  eyes  being  on  Harley.  Prescott  glanced 
at  Mr.  Sefton,  but  the  Secretary  remained  calm, 
composed  and  smiling,  listening  to  Harley  with  the 
same  air  of  interested  curiosity  shown  by  the  others. 
Prescott  saw  it  all  with  a  flash  of  intuition;  the 
Secretary  had  given  Harley  a  hint,  just  a  vague 
generalization,  within  the  confines  of  truth,  but  with- 
out any  names — enough  to  make  those  concerned 
uneasy,  but  not  enough  to  put  the  power  in  any 
hands  save  those  of  the  Secretary.  Harley  himself 
confirmed  this  by  continuing  the  subject,  though 
somewhat  uncertainly,  as  if  he  were  no  longer  sure 
of  his  facts. 

It  occurred  to  Prescott  that  he  might  borrow  this 
man's  own  weapons  and  fight  him  with  the  cold  brain 
and  craft  that  had  proved  so  effective  against  himself, 
Robert  Prescott.  But  when  he  turned  to  look  at  the 
Secretary  he  found  Mr.  Sefton  looking  at  him.  A 
glance  that  was  a  mingling  of  fire  and  steel  passed 


3i8  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

between  the  two ;  it  was  also  a  look  of  understanding. 
Prescott  knew  and  the  Secretary  saw  that  he  knew. 
In  the  bosom  of  James  Sefton  respect  rose  high 
for  the  young  man  whom  he  had  begun  to  hold 
rather  cheap  lately.  His  antagonist  was  entirely 
worthy  of  him. 

Harley  rambled  on.  He  looked  uncertainly  now 
and  then  at  Prescott,  as  if  he  believed  him  to  be  the 
traitorous  officer  and  would  provoke  him  into  reply; 
but  Prescott 's  face  was  a  perfect  mask,  and  his 
manner  careless  and  indifferent.  The  suspicions  of 
the  others  were  not  aroused,  and  Harley  was  not  well 
enough  informed  to  go  further ;  but  his  look  whenever 
it  fell  on  Robert  was  full  of  hatred,  and  Prescott 
marked  it  well. 

"What  do  you  think  of  a  fellow  who  would  do  such 
a  thing?"  asked  Harley  at  last. 

"  I've  a  pretty  good  opinion  of  him,"  said  Raymond 
quietly. 

"You  have?"  exclaimed  Harley. 

"I  have,"  repeated  Raymond;  "and  I'm  willing 
to  say  it  before  a  man  high  in  the  Government, 
like  Mr.  Sefton  here.  Are  all  the  powers  of  the 
Confederate  Government  to  be  gathered  for  the 
purpose  of  making  war  on  one  poor  lone  woman? 
Suppose  we  whip  Grant  first  and  bother  about  the 
woman  afterward.  I  think  I'll  write  an  editorial 
on  the  Government's  lack  of  chivalry — that  is,  I 
will  when  I  get  enough  paper  to  print  it  on,  but  I 
don't  know  when  that  will  be.  However,  I'll  keep  it 
in  mind  till  that  time  arrives." 

"I  think  you  are  wrong,"  said  the  Secretary 
smoothly,  as  one  who  discusses  ethics  and  not  per- 
sonalities. "This  man  had  his  duty  to  do,  and  how- 
ever small  that  duty  may  have  been,  he  should  have 
done  it." 

"You  generalize,  and  since  you  are  laying  down 
a  rule,  you  are  right,"  said  Raymond.  "But  this  is  a 
particular  case  and  an  exception.  We  owe  some 
duties  to  the  feminine  gender  as  well  as  to  patriotism. 
The  greater  shouldn't  always  be  swallowed  up  in  the 
lesser." 


CALYPSO  319 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  Winthrop  suggested  that, 
as  they  were  talking  of  the  ladies,  they  return  to 
them.  On  the  way  Prescott  casually  joined  the 
Secretary. 

"  Can  I  see  you  in  the  office  to-morrow,  Mr.  Sefton  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  Secretary.  "Will  three 
in  the  afternoon  do?  Alone,  I  suppose?" 

" Thank  you, "  said  Prescott.  "Three  in  the  after- 
noon and  alone  will  do. " 

Both  spoke  quietly,  but  the  swift  look  of  under- 
standing passed  once  more.  Then  they  rejoined  the 
ladies. 

Prescott  had  not  spoken  to  Lucia  Catherwood  in 
the  whole  course  of  the  evening,  but  now  he  sought 
her.  Some  of  the  charm  which  Mrs.  Markham  so 
lately  had  for  him  was  passing;  in  the  presence  of 
Lucia  she  seemed  less  fair,  less  winning,  less  true. 
His  own  conduct  appeared  to  him  in  another  light, 
and  he  would  turn  aside  from  his  vagrant  fancy  to 
the  one  to  whom  his  heart  was  yet  loyal.  But  he 
found  no  chance  to  speak  to  her  alone.  The  club  by 
spontaneous  agreement  had  chosen  to  make  her  its 
heroine  that  night,  and  Prescott  was  permitted  to  be 
one  of  the  circle,  nothing  more.  As  such  she  spoke 
to  him  occasionally  as  she  would  to  others — chance 
remarks  without  colour  or  emphasis,  apparently 
directed  toward  him  because  he  happened  to  be  sitting 
at  that  particular  point,  and  not  because  of  his  per- 
sonality. 

Frescott  chafed  and  sought  to  better  his  position, 
wishing  to  have  an  individuality  of  his  own  in  her 
regard;  but  he  could  not  change  the  colourless  r61e 
which  she  assigned  him.  So  he  became  silent,  speak- 
ing only  when  some  remark  was  obviously  intended 
for  him,  and  watched  her  face  and  expression.  He 
had  always  told  himself  that  her  dominant  charac- 
teristic was  strength,  power  of  will,  endurance;  but 
now  as  he  looked  he  saw  once  or  twice  a  sudden 
droop,  faint  but  discernible,  as  if  for  a  flitting  moment 
she  grew  too  weak  for  her  burden.  Prescott  felt  a 
great  access  of  pity  and  tenderness.  She  was  in  a 


320  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

position  into  which  no  woman  should  be  forced,  and 
she  was  assailed  on  all  sides  by  danger.  Her  very 
name  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  Secretary,  and  now 
Harley  with  his  foolish  talk  might  at  any  time  bring 
an  avalanche  down  upon  her.  He  himself  had  treated 
her  badly,  and  would  help  her  if  he  could.  He  turned 
to  find  Mrs.  Markham  at  his  elbow. 

"We  are  going  in  to  supper,"  she  said,  "and  you 
will  have  to  take  me. " 

Thus  they  passed  in  before  Lucia  Catherwood's 
eyes,  but  she  looked  over  them  and  came  presently 
with  Raymond. 

That  was  a  lean  supper — the  kitchens  of  Richmond 
in  the  last  year  of  the  war  provided  little ;  but  Prescott 
was  unhappy  for  another  reason.  He  was  there  with 
Mrs.  Markham,  and  she  seemed  to  claim  him  as  her 
own  before  all  those,  save  his  mother,  for  whom  he 
cared  most.  General  Wood  and  Helen  Harley  were 
across  the  table,  her  pure  eyes  looking  up  with  mani- 
fest pleasure  into  the  dark  ones  of  the  leader,  which 
could  shine  so  fiercely  on  the  battlefield  but  were  now 
so  soft.  Once  Prescott  caught  the  General's  glance 
and  it  was  full  of  wonder;  intrigue  and  the  cross  play 
of  feminine  purposes  were  unknown  worlds  to  the 
simple  mountaineer. 

Prescott  passed  from  silence  to  a  feverish  and 
uncertain  gaiety,  talking  more  than  any  one  at  the 
table,  an  honour  that  he  seldom  coveted.  Some 
of  his  jests  and  epigrams  were  good  and  more  were 
bad;  but  all  passed  current  at  such  a  time,  and  Mrs. 
Markham,  who  was  never  at  a  loss  for  something  to 
say,  seconded  him  in  able  fashion.  The  Secretary, 
listening  and  looking,  smiled  quietly.  "Gone  to  his 
head;  foolish  fellow,"  was  what  his  manner  clearly 
expressed.  Prescott  himself  saw  it  at  last  and 
experienced  a  sudden  check,  remembering  his  resolve 
to  fight  this  man  with  his  own  weapons,  while  here  he 
was  only  an  hour  later  behaving  like  a  wild  boy  on  his 
first  escapade.  He  passed  at  once  from  garrulity  to 
silence,  and  the  contrast  was  so  marked  that  the 
glances  exchanged  by  the  others  increased. 

Prescott  was  still  taciturn  when  at  a  late  hour  he 


CALYPSO  321 

helped  Mrs.  Markham  into  the  phaeton  and  they 
started  to  her  home.  He  fully  expected  that 
Harley  would  overtake  him  when  he  turned  away 
from  her  house  and  seek  a  quarrel,  but  the  fear  of 
physical  harm  scarcely  entered  into  his  mind.  It 
was  the  gossip  and  the  linking  of  names  in  the 
gossip  that  troubled  him. 

Mrs.  Markham  sat  as  close  to  him  as  ever — the 
little  phaeton  had  grown  no  wider — but  though  he 
felt  again  her  warm  breath  on  his  cheek,  no  pulse 
stirred. 

"Why  are  you  so  silent,  Captain  Prescott?"  she 
asked.  "  Are  you  thinking  of  Lucia  Catherwood  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied  frankly,  "I  was." 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  but  his  face  was  hidden  in 
the  darkness. 

"She  was  looking  very  beautiful  to-night,"  she 
said,  "and  she  was  supreme;  all  the  men — and  must 
I  say  it,  all  of  us  women,  too — acknowledged  her 
rule.  But  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  attracts  the 
masculine  mind — her  beauty,  her  bearing,  her  mysteri- 
ous past,  constitute  the  threefold  charm  to  which  all 
of  you  men  yield,  Captain  Prescott.  I  wish  I  knew 
her  history." 

"  It  could  be  to  her  credit  only,"  said  Prescott. 

She  glanced  up  at  him  again,  and  now  the  moonlight 
falling  on  his  face  enabled  her  to  see  it  set  and  firm, 
and  Mrs.  Markham  felt  that  there  had  been  a  change. 
He  was  not  the  same  man  who  had  come  with  her  to 
the  meeting  of  the  club,  but  she  was  not  a  woman 
to  relinquish  easily  a  conquest  or  a  half -conquest,  and 
she  called  to  her  aid  all  the  art  of  a  strong  and  cul- 
tivated mind.  She  was  bold  and  original  in  her 
methods,  and  did  not  leave  the  subject  of  Lucia 
Catherwood,  but  praised  her,  though  now  and  then 
with  slight  reservations,  letting  fall  the  inference  that 
she  was  her  good  friend  and  would  be  a  better  one  if 
she  could.  Such  use  did  she  make  of  her  gentle  and 
.unobtrusive  sympathy  that  Prescott  felt  his  heart 
warming  once  more  to  this  handsome  and  accom- 
plished woman. 

"You  will  come  to  see  me  again?"  she  said  at  the 


322  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

door,  letting  a  little  hand  linger  a  few  moments  in 

his. 

"  I  fear  that  I  may  be  sent  at  once  to  the  front. " 
"  But  if  you  are  not  you  will  come  ? "  she  persisted. 
"Yes,"  said  Prescott,  and  bade  her  good-night. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   SECRETARY  AND  THB  LADY 

The  chief  visitor  to  the  little  house  in  the  cross 
street  two  days  later  was  James  Sefton,  the  agile 
Secretary,  who  was  in  a  fine  humour  with  himself 
and  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  conceal  it.  Much 
that  conduced  to  his  satisfaction  had  occurred,  and 
the  affairs  that  concerned  him  most  were  going  well.' 
The  telegrams  sent  by  him  from  the  Wilderness  to  a 
trusty  agent  at  an  American  seaport  and  forwarded 
thence  by  mail  to  London  and  Paris  had  been  an- 
swered, and  the  replies  were  of  a  nature  most  encour- 
aging. Moreover,  the  people  here  in  Richmond  in 
whose  fortunes  he  was  interested  were  conducting 
themselves  in  a  manner  that  he  wished.  Therefore 
the  Secretary  was  pleasant. 

He  was  received  by  Lucia  Catherwood  in  the  little 
parlour  where  Prescott  had  often  sat.  She  was  grave 
and  pale,  as  if  she  suffered,  and  there  was  no  touch 
of  warmth  in  the  greeting  that  she  gave  the  Secretary. 
But  he  did  not  appear  to  notice  it,  although  he 
inquired  after  the  health  of  herself  and  Miss  Grayson, 
all  in  the  manner  of  strict  formality.  She  sat  down 
and  waited  there,  grave  and  quiet,  watching  him 
with  calm,  bright  eyes. 

The  Secretary,  too,  was  silent  for  a  few  moments, 
surveying  the  woman  who  sat  opposite  him,  so  cool 
and  so  composed.  He  felt  once  more  the  thrill  of 
involuntary  admiration  that  she  always  aroused  in 
him. 

"  It  is  a  delicate  business  on  which  I  come  to  you, 
Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said.  "I  wish  to  speak  of 
Miss  Harley  and  my  suit  there;  it  is  not  prospering,  as 
you  know.  Pardon  me  for  speaking  to  you  of  such 

323 


324  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

intimate  feelings.  I  know  that  it  is  not  customary, 
but  I  have  thought  that  you  might  aid  me. " 

"Was  it  for  such  a  reason  that  you  gave  me  a  pass 
to  Richmond  and  helped  me  to  come  here?" 

"Well,  in  part,  at  least;  but  I  can  say  in  my  own 
defense,  Miss  Catherwood,  that  I  bore  you  no  ill  will. 
Perhaps,  if  the  first  phase  of  the  affair  had  never 
existed,  I  should  have  helped  you  anyhow  to  come 
to  Richmond  had  I  known  that  you  wished  to  do  so. " 

"  And  how  can  I  help  you  now  ? " 

The  Secretary  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  did  not 
wish  to  say  all  that  was  in  his  mind.  Moreover,  he 
sought  to  bring  her  will  into  subjection  to  his.  The 
personal  sense  that  he  was  coming  into  contact  with  a 
mind  as  strong  as  his  own  did  not  wholly  please  him, 
yet  by  a  curious  contrariety  this  very  feeling  increased 
his  admiration  of  her. 

"  I  was  willing  that  you  should  come  to  Richmond," 
he  said,  "for  a  reason  that  I  will  not  mention  and 
which  perhaps  has  passed  away.  I  have  had  in  my 
mind — well,  to  put  it  plainly,  a  sort  of  bargain,  a 
bargain  in  which  I  did  not  consult  you.  I  thought 
that  you  might  help  me  with  Helen  Harley,  that — 
well,  to  speak  plainly  again,  that  your  attractions 
might  remove  from  my  path  one  whom  I  considered 
a  rival. " 

A  deep  flush  overspread  her  face,  and  then,  retreat- 
ing, left  it  paler  than  ever.  Her  fingers  were  pressed 
tightly  into  the  palms  of  her  hands,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

"I  am  frank,"  continued  the  Secretary,  "but  it  is 
best  between  us.  Finesse  would  be  wasted  upon 
one  with  your  penetrating  mind,  and  I  pay  you 
the  highest  compliment  I  know  when  I  discard  any 
attempt  to  use  it.  I  find  that  I  have  made  a  great 
mistake  in  more  respects  than  one.  The  man  who 
I  thought  stood  in  my  way  thought  so  himself  at  one 
time,  but  he  knows  better.  Helen  Harley  is  very 
beautiful  and  all  that  is  good,  but  still  there  is  some- 
thing lacking.  I  knew  it  long  ago,  but  only  in  the 
last  few  weeks  has  it  had  its  effect  upon  me.  This 
man  I  thought  my  rival  has  turned  aside  into  a  new 


THE   SECRETARY  AND  THE  LADY       325 

path,  and  I — well,  it  seems  that  fate  intends  that  he 
shall  be  my  rival  even  in  his  changes — have  followed 
him." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  a  sudden  fire 
leaping  to  her  eyes  and  a  cold  dread  clutching  her 
heart. 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  "that  however  beautiful  Helen 
Harley  may  be,  there  are  others  as  beautiful  and  one 
perhaps  who  has  something  that  she  lacks.  What  is 
that  something?  The  power  to  feel  passion,  to  love 
with  a  love  that  cares  for  nothing  else,  and  if  need  be 
to  hate  with  a  hate  that  cares  for  nothing  else.  She 
must  be  a  woman  with  fire  in  her  veins  and  lightning 
in  her  heart,  one  who  would  appear  to  the  man  she 
loves  not  only  a  woman,  but  as  a  goddess  as  well." 

"And  have  you  found  such  a  woman  ?" 

She  spoke  in  cold,  level  tones. 

The  Secretary  looked  at  her  sitting  there,  her  head 
thrown  slightly  back,  her  eyes  closed  and  the  curve  of 
her  chin  defiant  to  the  uttermost  degree.  The 
wonder  that  he  had  not  always  loved  this  woman 
instead  of  Helen  Harley  returned  to  him.  She  was 
a  girl  and  yet  she  was  not;  there  was  nothing  about 
her  immature  or  imperfect;  she  was  girl  and  woman, 
too.  She  had  spoken  to  him  in  the  coldest  of  tones, 
yet  he  believed  in  the  fire  beneath  the  ice.  He  wished 
to  see  what  kind  of  torch  would  set  the  flame.  His 
feeling  for  her  before  had  been  intellectual,  now  it 
was  sentimental  and  passionate. 

James  Sefton  realized  that  Lucia  Catherwood  was 
not  merely  a  woman  to  be  admired,  but  one  to  be 
loved  and  desired.  She  had  appealed  to  him  as  one 
with  whom  to  make  a  great  career;  now  she  appealed 
to  him  as  a  woman  with  whom  to  live.  He  remem- 
bered the  story  of  her  carrying  the  wounded  Prescott 
off  the  battlefield  in  her  arms  and  in  the  dark,  alone 
and  undaunted,  amid  all  the  dead  of  the  Wilderness. 
She  was  tall  and  strong,  but  was  it  so  much  strength 
and  endurance  as  love  and  sacrifice  ?  He  was  filled 
with  a  sudden  fierce  and  wild  jealousy  of  Prescott, 
because,  when  wounded  and  stricken  down,  she  had 
sheltered  him  within  her  arms. 


326  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

His  look  again  followed  the  curves  of  her  noble 
face  and  figure,  the  full  development  of  strong  years, 
and  a  fire  of  which  he  had  not  deemed  himself  capable 
burned  in  the  eyes  of  the  Secretary.  The  pale  shade 
of  Helen  Harley  floated  away  in  the  mist,  but  Lucia 
met  his  silent  gaze  firmly,  and  again  she  asked  in  cold, 
level  tones : 

"Have  you  found  such  a  woman  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have  found  her,"  replied  the  Secretary. 
"Perhaps  I  did  not  know  it  until  to-day;  perhaps  I 
was  not  sure,  but  I  have  found  her.  I  am  a  cold 
and  what  one  would  call  a  selfish  man,  but  ice  breaks 
up  under  summer  heat,  and  I  have  yielded  to  the 
spell  of  your  presence,  Lucia." 

"Miss  Catherwood!" 

"Well,  Miss  Catherwood — no,  Lucia  it  shall  be  !  I 
swear  it  shall  be  Lucia !  I  do  not  care  for  courtesy 
now,  and  you  are  compelled  to  hear  me  say  it.  It  is 
a  noble  name,  a  beautiful  one,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure 
to  say  it.  Lucia!  Lucia!  Lucia!" 

"Go  on,  then,  since  I  cannot  stop  you." 

"I  said  that  I  have  found  such  a  woman  and  I  have. 
Lucia,  I  love  you,  because  I  cannot  help  myself,  just  as 
you  cannot  help  my  calling  you  Lucia.  And,  Lucia, 
it  is  a  love  that  worships,  too.  There  is  nothing  bad 
in  it.  I  would  put  myself  at  your  feet.  You  shall  be 
a  queen  to  me  and  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  for  I 
have  much  to  offer  you  besides  my  poor  self.  However 
the  war  may  end,  I  shall  be  rich,  very  rich,  and  we 
shall  have  a  great  career.  Let  it  be  here  if  you  will, 
or  in  the  North,  or  in  Europe.  You  have  only  to  say." 

There  was  then  a  feeling  for  him  not  all  hate  in  the 
soul  of  Lucia  Catherwood.  If  he  loved  her,  that  was 
a  cloak  for  many  sins,  and  she  could  not  doubt  that  he 
did,  because  the  man  hitherto  so  calm  and  the  master 
of  himself  was  transformed.  His  words  were  spoken 
with  all  the  fire  and  heat  of  a  lover,  his  eyes  were 
alight,  and  his  figure  took  on  a  certain  dignity  and 
nobility.  Lucia  Catherwood,  looking  at  him,  said  to 
herself  in  unspoken  words :  "Here  is  a  great  man  and 
he  loves  me."  Her  heart  was  cold,  but  a  ray  of 
tenderness  came  from  it  nevertheless. 


THE    SECRETARY   AND   THE    LADY     327 

The  Secretary  paused  and  in  his  agitation  leaned 
his  arm  upon  the  mantel.  Again  his  eyes  dwelt  upon 
her  noble  curves,  her  sumptuous  figure,  and  the  soul 
that  shone  from  her  eyes.  Never  before  had  he  felt 
so  utter  a  sense  of  powerlessness.  Hitherto  to  desire 
a  thing  was  with  him  merely  the  preliminary  to  get- 
ting it.  Even  when  Helen  Harley  turned  away  from 
him,  he  believed  that  by  incessant  pursuit  he  could 
yet  win  her.  -  There  he  took  repulses  lightly,  but  here 
it  was  the  woman  alone  who  decreed,  and  whatever 
she  might  say  no  act  or  power  of  his  could  change  it. 
He  stood  before  her  a  suppliant. 

"You  have  honoured  me,  Mr.  Sefton,  with  this 
declaration  of  your  love,"  she  said,  and  her  tones 
sounded  to  him  as  cold  and  level  as  ever,  "but  I 
cannot — cannot  return  it." 

4 '  Neither  now  nor  ever  ?     You  may  change  L' ' 

"I  cannot  change,  Mr.  Sefton."  She  spoke  a  little 
sadly— out  of  pity  for  him — and  shook  her  head. 

"You  think  that  my  loyalty  is  due  to  Helen  Harley, 
but  I  do  not  love  her  !  I  cannot !" 

"No,  it  is  not  that,"  she  said.  "Helen  Harley  may 
not  love  you;  I  do  not  think  she  does.  But  I  am 
quite  sure  of  myself.  I  know  that  I  can  never  love 
you." 

"You  may  not  now,"  he  said  hotly,  "but  you  can 
be  wooed  and  you  can  be  won.  I  could  not  expect 
you  to  love  me  at  once— - 1  am  not  so  foolish — but 
devotion,  a  long  devotion,  may  change  a  woman's 
heart." 

"No,"  she  repeated,  "I  cannot  change." 

She  seemed  to  be  moving  away  from  him.  She  was 
intangible  and  he  could  not  grasp  her.  But  he 
raised  his  head  proudly. 

"I  do  not  come  as  a  beggar,"  he  said.  "I  offer 
something  besides  myself." 

Her  eyes  flashed;  she,  too,  showed  her  pride. 

"I  stand  alone,  I  am  nothing  except  myself,  but 
my  choice  in  the  most  important  matter  that  comes 
into  a  woman's  life  shall  be  as  free  as  the  air." 

She,  too,  raised  her  head  and  met  him  with  an 
unflinching  gaze. 


328  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"I  also  understand,"  he  said  moodily.  "You  love 
Prescott." 

A  flush  swept  over  her  face,  and  then  retreating 
left  it  pale  again,  but  she  was  too  proud  to  deny  the 
charge.  She  would  not  utter  an  untruth  nor  an 
evasion  even  on  so  delicate  a  subject.  There  was 
an  armed  truce  of  silence  between  them  for  a  few 
minutes,  till  the  evil  genius  of  the  Secretary  rose  and 
he  felt  again  that  desire  to  subject  her  will  to  his 
own. 

"If  you  love  this  young  man,  are  you  quite  sure 
that  he  loves  you  ?"  he  asked  in  quiet  tones. 

"I  will  not  discuss  such  a  subject,"  she  replied, 
flushing. 

"But  I  choose  to  speak  of  it.  You  saw  him  at  the 
President's  house  two  nights  ago  making  obvious 
love  to  some  one  else — a  married  woman.  Are  you 
sure  that  he  is  worthy  ?" 

She  maintained  an  obstinate  silence,  but  became 
paler  than  ever. 

"If  so,  you  have  a  mighty  faith,"  he  went  on 
relentlessly.  "His  face  was  close  to  Mrs.  Markham's. 
Her  hair  almost  touched  his  cheek." 

"I  will  not  listen  to  you  !"  she  cried. 

"But  you  must.  Richmond  is  ringing  with  talk 
about  them.  If  I  were  a  woman  I  should  wish  my 
lover  to  come  to  me  with  a  clean  reputation,  at 
least." 

He  paused,  but  she  would  not  speak.  Her  face 
was  white  and  her  teeth  were  set  firmly  together. 

"I  wish  you  would  go!"  she  said  at  last,  with 
sudden  fierceness. 

"But  I  will  not.  I  do  not  like  you  the  least  when 
you  rage  like  a  lioness." 

She  sank  back,  coldness  and  quiet  coming  to  her  as 
suddenly  as  her  anger  had  leaped  up. 

"You  have  told  me  that  you  cannot  love  me,"  he 
said,  "and  I  have  shown  you  that  the  man  you  love 
cannot  love  you.  I  refuse  to  go.  Awhile  since  I  felt 
that  I  was  powerless  before  you,  and  that  I  must 
abide  by  your  yea  and  nay;  but  I  feel  so  no  longer. 
Love,  I  take  it,  is  a  battle,  and  I  use  a  military  simile 


THE    SECRETARY    AND    THE    LADY  329 

because  there  is  war  about  us.  If  a  good  general 
wishes  to  take  a  position,  and  if  he  fails  in  the  direct 
charge — if  he  is  repelled  with  loss — he  does  not  on  that 
account  retreat ;  but  he  resorts  to  artifice,  to  stratagem, 
to  the  mine,  to  the  sly  and  adroit  approach." 

Her  courage  did  not  fail,  but  she  felt  a  chill  when  he 
talked  in  this  easy  and  sneering  manner.  She  had 
liked  him — a  little — when  he  disclosed  his  love  so 
openly  and  so  boldly,  but  now  no  ray  of  tenderness 
came  from  her  heart. 

"I  can  give  you  more  of  the  news  of  Richmond," 
said  the  Secretary,  "and  this  concerns  you  as  inti- 
mately as  the  other.  Perhaps  I  should  refrain  from 
telling  you,  but  I  am  jealous  enough  in  my  own  cause 
to  tell  it  nevertheless.  Gossip  in  Richmond — well,  I 
suppose  I  must  say  it — has  touched  your  name,  too. 
It  links  you  with  me." 

"Mr.  Sefton,"  she  said  in  the  old  cold,  level  tones, 
"you  spoke  of  my  changing,  but  I  see  that  you 
have  changed.  Five  minutes  ago  I  thought  you  a 
gentleman. " 

"  If  I  am  doing  anything  that  seems  mean  to  you 
I  do  it  for  love  of  you  and  the  desire  to  possess  you. 
That  should  be  a  sufficient  excuse  with  any  woman. 
Perhaps  you  do  not  realize  that  your  position  depends 
upon  me.  You  came  here  because  I  wrote  something 
on  a  piece  of  paper.  There  has  been  a  whisper  that 
you  were  once  a  spy  in  this  city — think  of  it;  the 
name  of  spy  does  not  sound  well.  Rumour  has 
touched  you  but  lightly,  yet  if  I  say  the  word  it  can 
envelope  and  suffocate  you. " 

"You  have  said  that  you  love  me;  do  men  make 
threats  to  the  women  whom  they  love?" 

"  Ah,  it  is  not  that, "  he  pleaded.  "  If  a  man  have 
a  power  over  a  woman  he  loves,  can  you  blame  him 
if  he  use  it  to  get  that  which  he  wishes  ?" 

"  Real  love  knows  no  such  uses, "  she  said,  and  then 
she  rose  from  her  chair,  adding: 

"I  shall  not  listen  any  longer,  Mr.  Sefton.  You 
remind  me  of  my  position,  and  it  is  well,  perhaps, 
that  I  do  not  forget  it.  It  may  be,  then,  that  I 
have  not  listened  to  you  too  long. " 


330  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

"And  I,"  he  replied,  "if  I  have  spoken  roughly  I 
beg  your  pardon.  I  could  wish  that  my  words  were 
softer,  but  my  meaning  must  remain  the  same.  " 

He  bowed  courteously — it  was  the  suave  Secretary 
once  more — and  then  he  left  her. 

Lucia  Catherwood  sat,  dry-eyed  and  motionless, 
for  a  long  time,  gazing  at  the  opposite  wall  and  seeing 
nothing  there.  She  asked  herself  now  why  she  had 
come  back  to  Richmond.  To  be  with  Miss  Grayson, 
her  next  of  kin,  and  because  she  had  no  other  place  ? 
That  was  the  reason  she  had  given  to  herself  and 
others — but  was  it  the  whole  reason  ? 

Now  she  wished  that  she  had  never  seen  Richmond. 
The  first  visit  had  ended  in  disaster,  and  the  second  in 
worse.  She  hated  the  sight  of  Richmond.  What 
right  had  she  among  these  people  who  were  not  hers  ? 
She  was  a  stranger,  a  foreigner,  of  another  tempera- 
ment, another  cast  of  thought. 

Her  mind  flitted  over  the  threats,  open  and  veiled, 
of  the  Secretary,  but  she  had  little  fear  for  herself. 
There  she  had  the  power  to  fight,  and  her  defiant 
spirit  would  rise  to  meet  such  a  conflict.  But  this 
other!  She  must  sit  idle  and  let  it  go  on.  She  was 
surprised  at  her  sudden  power  of  hatred,  which 
was  directed  full  against  a  woman  in  whose  eyes — 
even  in  moments  of  peace — there  were  lurking  green 
tints. 

He  had  done  much  for  her !  Well,  she  had  done 
as  much  for  him  and  hence  there  was  no  balance 
between  them.  She  resolved  to  cast  him  out  wholly, 
to  forget  him,  to  make  him  part  of  a  past  that  was  not 
only  dead  but  forgotten.  But  she  knew  even  as  she 
took  this  resolution  that  she  feared  the  Secretary 
because  she  believed  it  lay  within  his  power  to  ruin 
Prescott. 

The  door  was  opened  and  Miss  Grayson  came 
quietly  into  the  room.  She  was  a  cool,  soothing  little 
person.  Troubles,  if  they  did  not  die,  at  least  became 
more  tolerable  in  her  presence.  She  sat  in  silence 
sewing,  but  observed  Lucia's  face  and  knew  that  she 
was  suffering  much  or  it  would  not  show  in  the 
countenance  of  one  with  so  strong  a  will. 


THE   SECRETARY  AND  THE   LADY    331 

"Has  Mr.  Sefton  been  gone  long?"  she  asked  after 
awhile. 

"  Yes,  but  not  long  enough. " 

Miss  Grayson  said  nothing  and  Miss  Catherwood 
was  the  next  to  interrupt  the  silence. 

"Charlotte, "  she  said,  "  I  intend  to  leave  Richmond 
at  once. " 

"Leaving  Richmond  is  not  a  mere  holiday  trip 
now,"  said  Miss  Grayson.  "There  are  formalities, 
many  and  difficult. " 

"But  I  must  go!"  exclaimed  Miss  Catherwood 
vehemently,  all  her  anger  and  grief  flashing  out — it 
seemed  to  her  that  the  gates  suddenly  opened.  "I 
tell  you  I  must  leave  this  city !  I  hate  everything 
in  it,  Charlotte,  except  you  !  I  am  sorry  that  I  ever 
saw  it ! " 

Miss  Grayson  went  on  calmly  with  her  sewing. 

"  I  shall  not  let  you  go, "  she  said  in  her  quiet,  even 
voice.  "  I  could  have  endured  life  without  you  had  I 
never  had  you,  but  having  had  you  I  cannot.  I  shall 
not  let  you  go.  You  must  think  of  me  now,  Lucia, 
and  not  of  yourself." 

Miss  Grayson  looked  up  and  smiled.  The  smile  of 
an  old  maid,  not  herself  beautiful,  can  be  very  beauti- 
ful at  times. 

"See  what  a  burden  I  am,"  Miss  Catherwood 
protested.  "We  nearly  starved  once." 

Then  she  blushed — blushed  most  beautifully, 
thinking  of  a  certain  round  gold  piece,  still  unspent. 

"You  are  no  burden  at  all,  but  a  support.  I  shall 
have  money  enough  until  this  war  ends.  The 
Confederate  Government,  you  know,  Lucia,  paid  me 
for  the  confiscations — not  as  much  as  they  were 
worth,  but  as  much  as  I  could  expect — and  we  have 
been  living  on  it. " 

The  face  of  Lucia  Catherwood  altered.  It  expressed 
a  singular  tenderness  as  she  looked  at  Miss  Grayson, 
so  soft,  so  small  and  so  gray. 

"Charlotte,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  that  I  were  as  good 
as  you.  You  are  never  excited,  passionate  or  angry. 
You  always  know  what  you  ought  to  do  and  you 
always  do  it. " 


332  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

Miss  Grayson  looked  up  again  and  her  eyes  sud- 
denly sparkled. 

"  You  make  a  mistake,  a  great  mistake,  Lucia,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  only  the  people  who  do  wrong  now  and 
then  who  are  really  good.  Those  of  us  who  do  right 
all  the  time  merely  keep  in  that  road  because  we 
cannot  get  out  of  it.  I  think  it's  a  lack  of  tempera- 
ment— there's  no  variety  about  us.  And  oh,  Lucia, 
I  tell  you  honestly,  I  get  so  tired  of  keeping  forever 
in  the  straight  and  narrow  path  merely  because  it's 
easiest  for  me  to  walk  that  way.  I  don't  mean  to 
be  sacrilegious,  but  I  think  that  all  the  rejoicing  in 
Heaven  over  the  hundredth  man  who  has  sinned  and 
repented  was  not  because  he  had  behaved  well  at  last, 
but  because  he  was  so  much  more  interesting  than  all 
the  other  ninety-nine  put  together.  I  wish  I  had 
your  temper  and  impulses,  Lucia,  that  I  might  flash 
into  anger  now  and  then  and  do  something  rash — 
something  that  I  should  be  sorry  for  later  on,  but 
which  in  my  secret  heart  I  should  be  glad  I  had  done. 
Oh,  I  get  so  tired  of  being  just  a  plain,  goody-goody 
little  woman  who  will  always  do  the  right  thing  in  the 
most  uninteresting  way ;  a  woman  about  whom  there 
is  no  delightful  uncertainty;  a  woman  on  whom  you 
can  always  reckon  just  as  you  would  on  the  figure 
4  or  6  or  any  other  number  in  mathematics.  I  am 
like  such  a  figure — a  fixed  quantity,  and  that  is 
why  I,  Charlotte  Grayson,  am  just  a  plain  little  old 
maid."  * 

She  had  risen  in  her  vehemence,  but  when  she 
finished  she  sank- back  into  her  chair  and  a  faint, 
delicate  pink  bloomed  in  her  face.  Miss  Charlotte 
Grayson  was  blushing !  Lucia  was  silent,  regarding 
her.  She  felt  a  great  flood  of  tenderness  for  this  prim, 
quiet  little  woman  who  had,  for  a  rare  and  fleeting 
moment,  burst  her  shell.  Miss  Grayson  had  always 
accepted  so  calmly  and  so  quietly  the  life  which 
seemed  to  have  been  decreed  for  her  that  .it  never 
before  occurred  to  Lucia  to  suppose  any  tempestuous 
feelings  could  rise  in  that  breast ;  but  she  was  a  woman 
like  herself,  and  the  tie  that  bound  them,  already 
strong,  suddenly  grew  stronger. 


THE    SECRETARY   AND   THE    LADY     333 

"Charlotte,"  she  said,  placing  her  hand  gently 
upon  the  old  maid's  shoulder,  "it  seems  to  me  some- 
times that  God  has  not  been  quite  fair  to  women. 
He  gives  us  too  little  defense  against  our  own 
hearts." 

"Best  discard  them  entirely,"  said  Miss  Gray  son 
briskly.  "Come,  Lucia,  you  promised  to  help  me 
with  my  sewing." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE    WAY    OUT 

Prescott  at  three  o'clock  the  following  afternoon 
knocked  on  the  door  of  Mr.  Sefton's  private  office  and 
the  response  "Come  in!"  was  like  his  knock,  crisp 
and  decisive.  Prescott  entered  and  shut  the  door 
behind  him.  The  Secretary  had  been  sitting  by  the 
window,  but  he  rose  and  received  his  guest  cour- 
teously, extending  his  hand. 

Prescott  took  the  proffered  hand.  He  had  learned 
to  look  upon  the  Secretary  as  his  enemy,  but  he  found 
himself  unable  to  hate  him. 

"We  had  an  interview  in  this  room  once  before," 
said  the  Secretary,  "and  it  was  not  wholly  unfriendly." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Prescott,  "and  as  the  sub- 
ject that  I  have  to  propose  now  is  of  a  somewhat 
kindred  nature  I  hope  that  we  may  keep  the  same 
tone." 

"It  rests  with  you,  my  dear  Captain,"  said  the 
Secretary  meaningly. 

Prescott  was  somewhat  embarrassed.  He  scarcely 
knew  how  to  begin. 

"  I  came  to  ask  a  favour,"  he  said  at  last. 

"The  willingness  to  bestow  favours  does  not 
always  imply  the  power." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Prescott;  "but  in  this  case  the 
will  may  go  with  the  power.  I  have  come  to  speak 
to  you  of  Lucia  Catherwood." 

"What  of  her?"  asked  the  Secretary  sharply.  He 
was  betrayed  into  a  momentary  interruption  of  his 
habitual  calm,  but  settled  himself  into  his  seat  and 
looked  keenly  across  the  table  at  his  rival,  trying  to 
guess  the  young  man 's  plan  of  campaign .  Calculating 
upon  the  basis  of  what  he  himself  would  do  in  the  same 
position,  he  could  form  no  conclusion. 

334 


THE   WAY   OUT 


335 


"  I  have  come  to  speak  on  her  account,"  continued 
Prescott,  "and  though  I  may  be  somewhat  involved, 
I  wish  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  I  am  not  to 
be  considered.  I  ask  no  favour  for  myself." 

"  I  see  that  you  have  brought  your  pride  with  you," 
said  the  Secretary  dryly. 

Prescott  flushed  a  little. 

"  I  trust  that  I  always  have  it  with  me,"  he  said. 

"  We  are  frank  with  each  other." 

"It  is  best  so,  and  I  have  come  for  yet  plainer 
speaking.  I  am  well  aware,  Mr.  Sefton,  that  you 
know  all  there  is  to  be  known  concerning  Miss 
Catherwood  and  myself." 

"'All'  is  a  large  statement." 

"I  refer  to  the  facts  of  Miss  Catherwood's  former 
presence  in  Richmond,  what  she  did  while  here,  and 
how  she  escaped  from  the  city.  You  know  that  I 
helped  her." 

"And  by  doing  so  you  put  yourself  in  an  extremely 
delicate  position,  should  any  one  choose  to  relate  the 
facts  to  the  Government." 

"  Precisely.  But  again  it  is  Miss  Catherwood  of 
whom  I  am  speaking,  not  myself.  You  may  speak  of 
me,  you  may  denounce  me  at  any  time  you  choose, 
but  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Sefton,  to  respect  the  secret  of 
Miss  Catherwood.  She  has  told  me  that  her  acts 
were  almost  involuntary;  she  came  here  because 
she  had  nowhere  else  to  come — to  her  cousin, 
Miss  Grayson.  She  admits  that  she  was  once 
tempted  to  act  as  a  spy — that  the  impulse  was 
strong  within  her.  You  know  the  depth  of  her 
Northern  sympathies,  the  strength  of  her  nature,  and 
how  deeply  she  was  moved — but  that  is  all  she 
admits.  This  impulse  has  now  passed.  Would  you 
ruin  her  here,  as  you  can  do,  where  she  has  so  many 
friends,  and  where  it  is  possible  for  her  life  to  be 
happy?" 

A  thin  smile  appeared  on  the  face  of  the  Secretary. 

"You  will  pardon  me  if  I  call  this  a  somewhat 
extraordinary  appeal,  Captain  Prescott,"  he  said. 
"You  seem  to  show  a  deep  interest  in  Miss 
Catherwood,  and  yet  if  I  am  to  judge  by  what 


336  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

I  saw  the  other  night,  and  before,  your  devotion  is 
for  another  lady." 

Prescott  flushed  an  angry  red;  but  remembering 
his  resolve  he  replied  quietly: 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  my  devotion  to  anybody, 
Mr.  Sefton.  I  merely  speak  for  Miss  Catherwood, 
believing  that  she  is  in  your  power." 

"And  what  induced  you  to  believe  that  I  would 
betray  her?" 

"  I  have  not  indicated  such  a  belief.  I  merely  seek 
to  provide  against  a  contingency." 

The  Secretary  pondered,  lightly  tapping  the  table 
with  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand.  Prescott 
observed  his  thin,  almost  ascetic  face,  smooth- 
shaven  and  finely  cut.  Both  General  Wood  and  the 
Secretary  were  mountaineers,  but  the  two  faces  were 
different ;  one  represented  blunt  strength  and  courage ; 
the  other  suppleness,  dexterity,  meditation,  the  power 
of  silent  combination.  Had  the  two  been  blended 
here  would  have  been  one  of  the  world's  giant  figures. 

"We  have  begun  by  being  frank;  we  should  con- 
tinue so,"  said  the  Secretary  presently.  "We  seem 
doomed  to  be  rivals  always,  Captain  Prescott;  at  least 
we  can  give  each  other  the  credit  of  good  taste.  At 
first  it  was  Helen  Harley  who  took  our  fancy — a  fancy 
it  was  and  nothing  more — but  now  I  think  a  deeper 
passion  has  been  stirred  in  us  by  the  same  object, 
Miss  Catherwood.  You  see,  I  am  still  frank.  I  know 
very  well  that  you  care  nothing  for  Mrs.  Markham. 
It  is  but  a  momentary  folly,  the  result  of  jealousy  or 
something  akin  to  it — and  here  I  am,  resolved  to 
triumph  over  you,  not  because  I  would  enjoy  your 
defeat,  but  because  my  own  victories  are  sweet  to 
me.  If  I  happen  to  hold  in  my  hand  certain  cards 
which  chance  has  not  dealt  to  you,  can  you  blame 
me  if  I  play  them  ? " 

"  Will  you  spare  Miss  Catherwood  ? "  asked  Prescott. 

"Should  I  not  play  my  cards?"  repeated  the 
Secretary. 

"I  see,"  said  Prescott.  "You  told  me  that  I 
brought  my  pride  with  me.  Well,  I  did  not  bring  all 
of  it.  I  left  at  home  enough  to  permit  me  to  ask  this 


THE   WAY  OUT  337 

favour  of  you.  But  I  was  wrong;  I  should  not  have 
made  the  request," 

"I  have  not  refused  it  yet,"  said  the  Secretary. 
' '  I  merely  do  not  wish  to  pledge  myself.  When  a  man 
makes  promises  he  places  bonds  on  his  own  arms,  and 
I  prefer  mine  free;  but  since  I  seek  Miss  Catherwood 
as  a  wife,  is  it  not  a  fair  inference  that  her  fame  is  as 
dear  to  me  as  it  is  to  you  ? " 

Prescott  was  compelled  to  admit  the  truth  of  this 
statement,  but  it  did  not  cover  all  the  ground.  He 
felt  that  the  Secretary,  while  not  betraying  Lucia, 
would  in  some  way  use  his  knowledge  of  her  for  his 
own  advantage.  This  was  the  thought  at  the  bottom 
of  his  mind,  but  he  could  not  speak  it  aloud  to  the 
Secretary.  Any  man  would  repel  such  an  intimation 
at  once  as  an  insult,  and  the  agile  mind  of  James 
Sefton  would  make  use  of  it  as  another  strong  trump 
card  in  playing  his  game. 

"  Then  you  will  make  no  promise  ?"  asked  Prescott. 

"Promises  are  poor  coin,"  replied  the  Secretary, 
"hardly  better  than  our  Confederate  bills.  Let  me 
repeat  that  the  fame  of  Lucia  Catherwood  is  as  dear 
to  me  as  it  is  to  you.  With  that  you  should  be 
content." 

"  If  that  is  all,  good-day,"  said  Prescott,  and  he 
went  out,  holding  his  head  very  high.  The  Secretary 
saw  defiance  in  his  attitude. 

Mr.  Sefton  went  the  following  evening  to  the  little 
house  in  the  cross  street,  seeking  an  interview  with 
Lucia  Catherwood,  and  she,  holding  many  things  in 
mind,  was  afraid  to  deny  him. 

"  It  is  your  friend,  Captain  Prescott,  of  whom  I  wish 
to  speak,"  he  said. 

"  Why  my  friend  rather  than  the  friend  of  anybody 
else?"  she  asked. 

"  He  has  been  of  service  to  you,  and  for  that  reason 
I  wish  to  be  of  service  to  him.  There  has  been  talk 
about  him.  He  may  find  himself  presently  in  a  very 
dangerous  position." 

The  face  of  Lucia  Catherwood  flushed  very  red  and 
then  became  equally  pale.  The  Secretary  noticed 
how  her  form  stiffened,  nor  did  he  fail  to  observe  the 


338  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

single  angry  flash  from  her  eyes.  "She  cares  very 
much  for  that  man,"  was  his  mental  comment.  The 
Secretary  was  not  less  frank  with  himself  in  his  love 
than  in  other  matters. 

"  If  you  have  come  here  merely  to  discuss  Richmond 
gossip  I  shall  beg  you  to  leave  at  once,"  she  said 
coldly. 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  replied  the  Secretary. 
"  I  do  not  speak  of  any  affair  of  the  heart  that  Captain 
Prescott  may  have.  It  is  no  concern  of  mine  where 
his  affections  may  fall,  even  if  it  be  in  an  unlicensed 
quarter.  The  difficulty  to  which  I  allude  is  of  another 
kind.  There  is  malicious  gossip  in  Richmond;  some- 
thing has  leaked  out  in  some  way  that  connects 
him  with  an  affair  of  a  spy  last  winter.  Connect  is 
scarcely  the  word,  because  that  is  too  definite;  this  is 
exceedingly  vague.  Harley  spoke  of  it  the  other  night, 
and  although  he  did  not  call  Prescott  by  name,  his 
manner  indicated  that  he  was  the  man  meant. 
Harley  seems  to  have  received  a  little  nebulous 
information  from  a  certain  quarter,  not  enough  upon 
which  to  take  action  had  one  the  malice  to  wish  it, 
but  enough  to  indicate  that  he  might  obtain  more 
from  the  same  source." 

The  Secretary  paused,  and  his  expression  was  one 
of  mingled  concern  and  sympathy.  A  young  man 
whom  he  liked  was  about  to  fall  into  serious  difficulties 
and  he  would  save  him  from  them  if  he  could.  Yet 
they  understood  each  other  perfectly.  A  single  glance, 
a  spark  from  steel  like  that  which  had  passed  between 
Prescott  and  the  Secretary,  passed  now  between  these 
two.  The  Secretary  was  opening  another  mine  in  the 
arduous  siege  that  he  had  undertaken ;  if  he  could  not 
win  by  treaty  he  would  by  arms,  and  now  he  was 
threatening  her  through  Prescott. 

She  did  not  flinch  and  therefore  she  won  his 
increased  admiration.  Her  natural  colour  returned 
and  she  met  his  glance  firmly.  The  life  of  Lucia 
Catherwood  had  been  hard  and  she  was  trained  to 
repression  and  self-reliance. 

"I  do  not  understand  why  you  should  speak  of  this 
to  me,"  she  said. 


THE   WAY  OUT  339 

"Merely  that  you  might  exert  your  influence  in  his 
favour." 

She  was  measuring  him  then  with  a  glance  not  less 
penetrating  than  his  own.  Why  should  she  seek  now 
to  save  Prescott  ?  But  she  would,  if  she  could.  This 
was  a  threat  that  the  Secretary  might  keep,  but  not 
at  once,  and  she  would  seek  time. 

"Captain  Prescott  has  done  me  a  great  service,"  she 
said,  "and  naturally  I  should  be  grateful  to  any  who 
did  as  much  for  him." 

"Perhaps  some  one  who  will  do  as  much  can  be 
found,"  he  said.  "It  may  be  that  I  shall  speak  to  him 
of  you  later  and  then  he  will  claim  the  reward  that 
you  promise." 

It  was  on  her  lips  to  say  that  she  promised  nothing 
except  gratitude,  but  she  withheld  the  words.  It 
suddenly  seemed  fair  to  a  singularly  honest  mind  to 
meet  craft  with  craft.  She  had  heard  of  the  military 
phrase,  "in  the  air";  she  would  leave  the  Secretary 
in  the  air.  So  she  merely  said : 

"I  am  not  in  Captain  Prescott 's  confidence,  but  I 
know  that  he  will  thank  you." 

"He  should,"  said  the  Secretary  dryly,  and  left  her. 

Almost  at  the  very  moment  that  the  Secretary  was 
going  to  the  Grayson  cottage  Prescott  was  on  his  way 
to  Winthrop's  newspaper  office. 

There  was  little  to  be  done,  and  a  group  including 
General  Wood,  who  had  come  that  afternoon  from 
Petersburg,  sat  in  the  old  fashion  by  the  stove  and 
talked  of  public  affairs,  especially  the  stage  into  which 
the  war  had  now  come.  The  heat  of  the  room  felt 
grateful,  as  a  winter  night  was  falling  outside,  and  in 
the  society  of  his  friends  Prescott  found  himself 
becoming  more  of  an  optimist  than  he  had  been  for 
some  days.  Cheerfulness  is  riveted  in  such  a  physical 
base  as  youth  and  strength,  and  Prescott  was  no 
exception.  He  could  even  smile  behind  his  hand  when 
he  saw  General  Wood  draw  forth  the  infallible  bowie- 
knife,  pull  a  piece  of  pine  from  a  rickety  box  that 
held  fuel  for  the  stove  and  begin  to  whittle  from  it 
long,  symmetrical  shavings  that  curled  beautifully. 
This  was  certain  evidence  that  General  Wood,  for  the 


340  BEFORE    THE    DAWN 

evening  at  least,  was  inclined  to  look  on  the  bright 
side  of  life. 

Unto  this  placid  group  came  two  men,  walking 
heavily  up  the  wooden  stairs  and  showing  signs  of 
mental  wear.  Their  eyebrows  were  raised  with  sur- 
prise at  the  sight  of  Prescott,  but  they  made  no 
comment.  They  were  Harley  and  Redfield. 

Harley  approached  Winthrop  with  a  joval  air. 

"I've  found  you  a  new  contributor  to  your  paper 
and  he's  ready  to  bring  you  a  most  interesting  piece 
of  news." 

Winthrop  flipped  the  ash  off  his  cigar  and  regarded 
Harley  coolly 

"Colonel !"  he  said,  "I'm  always  grateful  for  good 
news,  but  I  don't  take  it  as  a  favour.  If  it  comes  to 
the  pinch  I  can  write  my  newspaper  all  by  myself." 

Harley  changed  countenance  and  his  tone  changed 
too. 

"It's  in  the  interest  of  justice,"  he  said,  "and  it  will 
be  sure  to  attract  attention  at  the  same  time." 

"I  imagine  that  it  must  be  in  the  interest  of  justice 
when  you  and  Mr.  Redfield  take  so  much  trouble  to 
secure  its  publication,"  said  Winthrop ;  "and  I  imagine 
that  I'm  not  risking  much  when  I  also  say  that  you  are 
the  brilliant  author  who  has  written  the  little  piece." 

"It's  this,"  said  Harley.  "It's  about  a  man  who  has 
been  paying  too  ardent  attentions  to  a  married 
woman — no  names  given,  of  course;  he  is  a  captain, 
a  young  man  who  is  here  on  leave,  and  she  is  the  wife 
of  a  general  who  is  at  the  front  and  can't  look  after 
his  own  honour.  Gossip  says,  too,  that  the  captain 
has  been  concerned  in  something  else  that  will  bring 
him  up  with  a  jerk  if  the  Government  hears  of  it. 
It's  all  written  out  here.  Oh,  it  will  make  a  fine  stir  !" 

Prescott  half  rose  from  his  seat,  but  sank  back  and 
remained  quiet.  Again  he  imitated  the  Secretary's 
example  of  self-repression  and  waited  to  see  what 
Winthrop  would  do.  General  Wood  trimmed  off  a 
shaving  so  long  that  it  coiled  all  the  way  around  his 
wrist.  Then  he  took  it  off  carefully,  dropped  it  on 
the  floor  with  the  others,  and  at  once  went  to  work 
whittling  a  new  one. 


THE    WAY   OUT  34i 

"Let's  see  the  article,"  said  Winthrop. 

Harley  handed  it  to  him  and  he  read  it  carefully. 

"A  fine  piece  of  work,"  he  said;  "who  wrote  it— you 
or  Redfield?" 

"Oh,  we  did  it  together,"  replied  Harley  with  a 
smile  of  appreciation. 

Redfield  uttered  a  denial,  but  it  was  too  late. 

"A  fine  piece  of  work,"  repeated  Winthrop,  "admir- 
ably adapted  to  the  kindling  of  fires.  Unfortunately 
my  fire  is  already  kindled,  but  it  can  help  on  the 
good  cause." 

With  that  he  cast  the  paper  into  the  stove. 

Harley  uttered  an  oath. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  cried. 

"I  mean  that  you  can't  use  my  paper  to  gratify 
your  private  revenge.  If  you  want  to  do  that  sort 
of  thing  you  must  get  a  newspaper  of  your  own." 

"I  think  you  are  infernally  impertinent." 

"And  I  think,  Vincent  Harley,  that  you  are  a 
damned  fool.  You  want  a  duel  with  the  man  about 
whom  you'.ve  written  this  card,  but  for  excellent 
reasons  he  will  decline  to  meet  you.  Still  I  hate  to 
see  a  man  who  is  looking  for  a  fight  go  disappointed, 
and  just  to  oblige  you  I'll  fight  you  myself." 

"But  I've  no  quarrel  with  you,"  said  Harley 
sullenly. 

"Oh,  I  can  give  you  ample  cause,"  said  Winthrop 
briskly.  "I  can  throw  this  water  in  your  face,  or  if 
you  prefer  it  I  can  give  you  a  blow  on  the  cheek,  a 
hard  one,  too.  Take  your  choice." 

Prescott  arose. 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Winthrop,"  he  said, 
"for  taking  up  my  quarrel  and  trying  to  shield  me. 
All  of  you  know  that  I  am  meant  in  that  card  which 
he  calls  such  'a  piece  of  good  news.'  I  admire  Colonel 
Harley's  methods,  and  since  he  is  so  persistent  I  will 
fight  him  on  the  condition  that  the  meeting  and  its 
causes  be  kept  absolutely  secret.  If  either  of  us  is 
wounded  or  killed  let  it  be  said  that  it  was  in  a  skir- 
mish with  the  enemy." 

"Why  these  conditions  ?"  asked  Redfield. 

"For  the  sake  of  others.     Colonel  Harley  imagines 


342  BEFORE    THE    DAWN 

that  he  has  a  grievance  against  me.  He  has  none,  and 
if  he  had  the  one  that  he  imagines  he  is  certainly  in  no 
position  to  call  me  to  account.  Since  he  will  have  it 
no  other  way,  I  will  fight  him." 

"I  object,"  said  Winthrop  with  temper.  "I  have 
a  prior  claim.  Colonel  Harley  has  tried  to  use  me, 
an  unoffending  third  party,  as  the  instrument  of 
his  private  revenge,  and  that  is  a  deadly  offense. 
I  have  the  reputation  of  being  a  hot-blooded  man  and 
I  intend  to  live  up  to  my  reputation." 

A  glass  of  water  was  standing  by  the  cooler.  He 
lifted  it  and  hurled  the  contents  into  Harley 's  face. 
The  man  started  back,  strangling  and  coughing,  then 
wiped  the  water  from  his  face  with  a  handkerchief. 

"Do  you  dispute  the  priority  of  my  claim  over 
Captain  Prescott  ?"  asked  Winthrop. 

"I  do  not,"  said  Harley.  "Mr.  Redfield  will  call  on 
you  again  in  my  behalf  within  an  hour." 

Prescott  was  irresolute. 

"Winthrop,"  he  said,  "I  can't  permit  this." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can,"  said  Winthrop,  "because  you 
can't  help  yourself.  " 

Then  General  Wood  upreared  his  gigantic  form  and 
ran  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  solemnly  through  his 
black  whiskers.  He  put  his  bowie-knife  in  its  sheath, 
brushed  the  last  shaving  off  his  trousers  and  said : 

"But  there's  somebody  who  can  help  it,  an'  I'm  the 
man.  What's  more,  I  mean  to  do  it.  Colonel  Harley, 
General  Lee  transferred  your  regiment  to  my  com- 
mand yesterday  and  I  need  you  at  the  front.  I  order 
you  to  report  for  duty  at  once,  and  I  won't  have  any 
delay  about  it  either.  You  report  to  me  in  Petersburg 
to-morrow  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why;  I  go  myself 
at  daylight,  but  I'll  leave  a  request  with  the  Govern- 
ment that  Captain  Prescott  also  be  despatched  to 
me.  I've  got  work  for  him  to  do." 

The  man  spoke  with  the  utmost  dignity  and  his 
big  black  eyes  shot  fire. 

"The  king  commands,"  said  Raymond  softly. 

Wood  put  his  hand  on  Harley's  arm. 

"Colonel,"  he  said,  "you  are  one  of  my  lieutenants, 
and  we're  thinkin'  about  a  movement  that  I've  got 


THE    WAY   OUT  343 

to  talk  over  with  you.  You'll  come  with  me  now  to 
the  Spots  wood  Hotel,  because  there's  no  time  to 
waste.  I  don't  reckon  you  or  I  will  get  much  sleep 
to-night,  but  if  we  don't  sleep  to-night  we'll  doze  in 
the  saddle  to-morrow." 

"The  king  not  only  commands,  but  knows  what  to 
command,"  said  Raymond  softly. 

It  was  the  general  of  the  battlefield,  the  man  of  light- 
ning force  who  spoke,  and  there  was  none  who  dared 
to  disobey.  Harley,  himself  a  brilliant  soldier  though 
nothing  else,  yielded  when  he  felt  the  hand  of  steel  on 
his  arm,  and  acknowledged  the  presence  of  a  superior 
force. 

"Very  well,  General,"  he  said  respectfully;  "I  am 
at  your  service." 

"Good-night,  gentlemen, "said  Wood  to  the  others, 
and  he  added  laughingly  to  the  editors:  "Don't  you 
boys  print  anythin'  until  you  know  what  you're 
printin',"  and  to  Prescott:  "I  reckon  you'd  better 
say  good-by  to-morrow  to  your  friends  in  Richmond. 
I  don't  allow  that  you'll  have  more'n  a  couple  of  days 
longer  here,"  and  then  to  Harley:  "Come  along, 
Colonel;  an'  I  s'pose  you're  goin'  out  with  us,  too, 
Mr.  Redfield." 

He  swept  up  the  two  with  his  glance  and  the  three 
left  together,  their  footsteps  sounding  on  the  rickety 
steps  until  they  passed  into  the  street. 

"There  goes  a  man,  a  real  man,"  said  Raymond 
with  emphasis.  "Winthrop,  it  takes  such  as  he  to 
reduce  fellows  like  you  and  Harley  to  their  proper 
places." 

"It  is  unkind  of  him  to  kidnap  Harley  in  that 
summary  fashion,"  said  Winthrop  ruefully.  "I 
really  wanted  to  put  a  bullet  through  him.  Not  in  a 
vital  place — say  through  the  shoulder  or  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  arm,  where  it  would  let  blood  flow  freely. 
That's  what  he  needs." 

But 'Prescott  was  devoutly  thankful  to  Wood,  and 
especially  for  his  promise  that  he,  too,  should  speedily 
be  sent  to  the  front.  What  he  wished  most  of  all  now 
was  to  escape  from  Richmond. 

The  promise  was  kept,  the  order  to  report  to  General 


344  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Wood  himself  in  Petersburg  came  the  next  day  and  he 
was  to  start  on  the  following  morning. 

He  took  courage  to  call  upon  Lucia  and  found  her 
at  home,  sitting  silently  in  the  little  parlour,  the  glow 
from  the  fire  falling  across  her  hair  and  tinting  it 
with  deep  gleams  of  reddish  gold.  Whether  she  was 
surprised  to  see  him  he  could  not  judge,  her  face 
remaining  calm  and  no  movement  that  would  betray 
emotion  escaping  her. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  bid 
you  farewell.  I  rejoin  the  army  to-morrow  and  I  am 
glad  to  go." 

"I,  too,  am  glad  that  you  are  going,"  she  said, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands  as  if  to  protect  them 
from  the  glow  of  the  fire. 

"There  is  one  thing  that  I  would  ask  of  you,"  he 
said,  "and  it  is  that  you  remember  me  as  I  was  last 
winter,  and  not  as  I  have  appeared  to  you  since  I 
returned  from  the  South.  That  was  real;  this  is 
false." 

His  voice  trembled,  and  she  did  not  speak,  fearing 
that  her  own  would  do  the  same. 

"I  have  made  mistakes,"  he  said.  "I  have 
yielded  to  rash  impulses,  and  have  put  myself  in  a 
false  position  before  the  world;  but  I  have  not  been 
criminal  in  anything,  either  in  deed  or  intent.  Even 
now  what  I  remember  best,  the  memory  that  I  value 
most,  is  when  you  and  I  fled  together  from  Richmond 
in  the  cold  and  the  snow,  when  you  trusted  me  and  I 
trusted  you. " 

She  wished  to  speak  to  him  then,  remembering  the 
man,  stained  with  his  own  blood,  whom  she  had 
carried  in  her  strong  young  arms  off  the  battlefield. 
With  a  true  woman's  heart  she  liked  him  better  when 
she  was  acting  for  him  than  when  he  was  acting  for 
her;  but  something  held  her  back — the  shadow  of  a 
fair  woman  with  lurking  green  depths  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"Lucia!"  exclaimed  Prescott  passionately,  "have 
you  nothing  to  say  to  me?  Can't  you  forget  my 
follies  and  remember  at  least  the  few  good  things  that 
I  have  done?" 

"  I  wish  you  well.     I  cannot  forget  the  great  service 


THE   WAY   OUT  345 

that  you  did  me,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  return 
safely  from  a  war  soon  to  end. " 

"You  might  wish  anybody  that,  even  those  whom 
you  have  never  seen, "  he  said. 

Then  with  a  few  formal  words  he  went  away,  and 
long  after  he  was  gone  she  still  sat  there  staring 
into  the  fire,  the  gleams  of  reddish  gold  in  her  hair 
becoming  fainter  and  fainter. 

Prescott  left  Richmond  the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   FALL   OF    RICHMOND 

Two  long  lines  of  earthworks  faced  each  other 
across  a  sodden  field;  overhead  a  chilly  sky  let  fall 
a  chilly  rain;  behind  the  low  ridges  of  earth  two 
armies  faced  each  other,  and  whether  in  rain  or  in 
sunshine,  no  head  rose  above  either  wall  without 
becoming  an  instant  mark  for  a  rifle  that  never 
missed.  Here  the  remorseless  sharpshooters  lay. 
Human  life  had  become  a  little  thing,  and  after  a 
difficult  shot  they  exchanged  remarks  as  hunters  do 
when  they  kill  a  bird  on  the  wing. 

If  ever  there  was  a  "No  Man's  Land,"  it  was  the 
space  between  the  two  armies  which  had  aptly  .been 
called  the  "  Plain  of  Death.  "  Any  one  who  ventured 
upon  it  thought  very  little  of  this  life,  and  it  was  well 
that  he  should,  as  he  had  little  of  it  left  to  think  about. 
The  armies  had  lain  there  for  weeks  and  weeks,  facing 
each  other  in  a  deadlock,  and  a  fierce  winter,  making 
the  country  an  alternation  of  slush  and  snow,  had 
settled  down  on  both.  The  North  could  not  go 
forward ;  the  South  could  not  thrust  the  North  back ; 
but  the  North  could  wait  and  the  South  could  not. 
Lee's  army,  crouching  behind  the  earthen  walls,  grew 
thinner  and  hungrier  and  colder  as  the  weeks  passed. 
Uniforms  fell  away  in  rags,  supplies  from  the  South 
became  smaller  and  smaller,  but  the  lean  and  ragged 
army  still  lay  there,  grim  and  defiant,  while  Grant, 
with  the  memory  of  Cold  Harbour  before  him,  dared 
not  attack.  He  bided  his  time,  having  shown  all  the 
qualities  that  were  hoped  of  him  and  more.  Tenacious, 
fertile  in  ideas,  he  had  been  from  the  beginning  the 
one  to  attack  and  his  foe  the  one  to  defend.  The 
whole  character  of  the  war  had  changed  since  he  came 
upon  the  field.  He  and  Sherman  were  now  the  two 
346 


THE    FALL   OF   RICHMOND  347 

arms  of  a  vise  that  held  the  Confederacy  in  its  grip 
and  would  never  let  go. 

Prescott  crouched  behind  the  low  wall,  reading  a 
letter  from  his  mother,  while  his  comrades  looked 
enviously  at  him.  A  letter  from  home  had  long  since 
become  an  event.  Mrs.  Prescott  said  she  was  well, 
and,  so  far  as  concerned  her  physical  comfort,  was 
not  feeling  any  excessive  stress  of  war.  They  were 
hearing  many  reports  in  Richmond  from  the  armies. 
Grant,  it  was  said,  would  make  a  great  flanking 
movement  as  soon  as  the  warmer  weather  came,  and 
the  newspapers  in  the  capital  gave  accounts  of  vast 
reinforcements  in  men  and  supplies  he  was  receiving 
from  the  North. 

"If  we  know  our  Grant,  and  we  think  we  do,  he 
will  certainly  move, "  said  Prescott  grimly  to  himself, 
looking  across  the  "  Plain  of  Death"  toward  the  long 
Northern  line. 

Then  his  mother  continued  with  personal  news  of 
his  friends  and  acquaintances. 

"The  popularity  of  Lucia  Catherwood  lasts,"  she 
wrote.  "She  would  avoid  publicity,  but  she  can 
scarcely  do  it  without  offending  the  good  people  who 
like  her.  She  seems  gay  and  is  often  brilliant,  but  I 
do  not  think  she  is  happy.  She  receives  great 
attention  from  Mr.  Sefton,  whose  power  in  the 
Government,  disguised  as  it  is  in  a  subordinate 
position,  seems  to  increase.  Whether  or  not  she  likes 
him  I  do  not  know.  Sometimes  I  think  she  does,  and 
sometimes  I  think  she  has  the  greatest  aversion  to 
him.  But  it  is  a  courtship  that  interests  all  Richmond. 
People  mostly  say  that  the  Secretary  will  win,  but  as 
an  old  woman — a  mere  looker-on — I  have  my  doubts. 
Helen  Harley  still  holds  her  place  in  the  Secretary's 
office,  but  Mr.  Sefton  no  longer  takes  great  interest  in 
her.  Her  selfish  old  father  does  not  like  it  at  all,  and 
I  hear  that  he  speaks  slightingly  of  the  Secretary's 
low  origin ;  but  he  continues  to  spend  the  money  that 
his  daughter  earns. 

44  It  is  common  gossip  that  the  Secretary  knows  all 
about  Lucia's  life  before  she  came  to  Richmond ;  that 


348  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

he  has  penetrated  the  mystery  and  in  some  way  has  a 
hold  over  her  which  he  is  using.  I  do  not  know  how 
this  report  originated,  but  I  think  it  began  in  some 
foolish  talk  of  Vincent  Harley's.  As  for  myself,  I  do 
not  believe  there  is  any  mystery  at  all.  She  is  simply 
a  girl  who  in  these  troublous  times  came,  as  was 
natural,  to  her  nearest  relative,  Miss  Grayson. " 

"No  bad  news,  Bob,  I  hope,"  said  Talbot,  looking 
at  his  gloomy  face. 

"  None  at  all,"  said  Prescott  cheerily,  and  with 
pardonable  evasion. 

"There  go  the  skirmishers  again." 

A  rapid  crackle  arose  from  a  point  far  to  their  left, 
but  the  men  around  Talbot  and  Prescott  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  merely  huddling  closer  in  the  effort  to 
keep  warm.  They  had  ceased  long  since  to  be  inter- 
ested in  such  trivialities. 

"  Grant's  going  to  move  right  away;  I  feel  it  in  my 
bones,"  repeated  Talbot. 

Talbot  was  right.  That  night  the  cold  suddenly 
fled,  the  chilly  clouds  left  the  heavens  and  the  great 
Northern  General  issued  a  command.  A  year  before 
another  command  of  his  produced  that  terrific  cam- 
paign through  the  Wilderness,  where  a  hundred 
thousand  men  fell,  and  he  meant  this  second  one  to 
be  as  significant. 

Now  the  fighting,  mostly  the  work  of  sharpshooters 
through  the  winter,  began  in  regular  form,  and 
extended  in  a  long  line  over  the  torn  and  trampled 
fields  of  Virginia,  where  all  the  soil  was  watered  with 
blood.  The  numerous  horsemen  of  Sheridan,  fresh 
from  triumphs  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  were  the 
wings  of  the  Northern  force,  and  they  hung  on  the 
flanks  of  the  Southern  army,  incessantly  harrying  it, 
cutting  off  companies  and  regiments,  giving  the  worn 
and  wounded  men  no  respite. 

Along  a  vast,  curving  line  that  steadily  bent  in 
toward  Richmond — the  Southern  army  inside,  the 
Northern  army  outside — the  sound  of  the  cannon 
scarcely  ever  ceased,  night  or  day.  Lee  fought  with 
undiminished  skill,  always  massing  his  thin  ranks  at 


THE    FALL   OF    RICHMOND  349 

the  point  of  contact  and  handling  them  with  the  old 
fire  and  vigour;  but  his  opponent  never  ceased  the 
terrible  hammering  that  he  had  begun  more  than  a 
year  ago.  Grant  intended  to  break  through  the  shell 
of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  and  it  was  now  crack- 
ing and  threatening  to  shatter  before  his  ceaseless 
strokes. 

The  defenders  of  a  lost  cause,  if  cause  it  was, 
scarcely  ever  knew  what  it  was  to  draw  a  free  breath. 
When  they  were  not  fighting,  they  were  marching, 
often  on  bare  feet,  and  of  the  two  they  did  not  know 
which  they  preferred.  They  were  always  hungry; 
they  went  into  battles  on  empty  stomachs,  came 
out  with  the  same  if  they  came  out  at  all,  and  they 
had  no  time  to  think  of  the  future.  They  had  become 
mere  battered  machines,  animated,  it  is  true,  by  a 
spirit,  but  by  a  spirit  that  could  take  no  thought  of 
softness.  They  had  respected  Grant  from  the  first; 
now,  despite  their  loss  by  his  grim  tactics,  they  looked 
in  wonder  and  admiration  at  them,  and  sought  to 
measure  the  strength  of  mind  that  could  pay  a  heavy 
present  price  in  flesh  and  blood  in  order  to  avoid  a 
greater  price  hereafter. 

Prescott  and  Talbot  were  with  the  last  legion.  The 
bullets,  after  wounding  them  so  often,  seemed  now  to 
give  them  the  right  of  way.  They  came  from  every 
battle  and  skirmish  unhurt,  only  to  go  into  a  new  one 
the  next  day. 

"If  I  get  out  of  all  this  alive,"  said  Talbot,  with 
grim  humour,  "  I  intend  to  eat  for  a  month  and  then 
sleep  for  a  year;  maybe  then  I'll  feel  rested." 

Wood,  too,  was  always  there  with  his  cavalry,  now 
a  thin  band,  seeking  to  hold  back  the  horsemen  of  the 
North,  and  Vincent  Harley,  ever  a  good  soldier,  was 
his  able  second. 

In  these  desperate  days  Prescott  began  to  feel 
respect  for  Harley ;  he  admired  the  soldier,  if  not  the 
man.  There  was  no  danger  too  great  for  Harley, 
no  service  too  arduous.  He  slept  in  the  saddle,  if 
he  slept  at  all,  and  his  spirit  never  flinched.  There 
was  no  time  for,  him  to  renew  his  quarrel  with 
Prescott,  and  Prescott  was  resolved  that  it  should 


350  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

never  be  renewed  if  there  were  any  decent  way  of 
avoiding  it. 

The  close  of  a  day  of  incessant  battle  and  skirmish 
was  at  hand,  and  clouds  of  smoke  darkened  the 
twilight.  From  the  east  and  from  the  west  came  the 
low  mutter  and  thunder  of  the  guns.  The  red  sun 
was  going  down  in  a  sea  of  ominous  fire.  There  were 
strange  reports  of  the  deeds  of  Sheridan,  but  the 
soldiers  themselves  knew  nothing  definite.  They 
had  lost  touch  with  other  bodies  of  their  comrades, 
and  they  could  only  hope  to  meet  them  again. 
Meanwhile  they  gave  scarcely  a  glance  at  the  lone 
and  trampled  land,  but  threw  themselves  down  under 
the  trees  and  fell  asleep. 

A  messenger  came  for  Prescott.  "The  General-in- 
Chief  wishes  you,"  he  said. 

Prescott  walked  to  a  small  fire  where  Lee  sat  alone 
for  the  present  and  within  the  shelter  of  the  tent. 
He  was  grave  and  thoughtful,  but  that  was  habitual 
with  him.  Prescott  could  not  see  that  the  victor  of 
Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  had  changed  in 
bearing  or  manner.  He  was  as  neat  as  ever ;  the  gray 
uniform  was  spotless;  the  splendid  sword,  a  gift  from 
admirers,  hung  by  his  side.  His  face  expressed 
nothing  to  the  keen  gaze  of  Prescott,  who  was  now  no 
novice  in  the  art  of  reading  the  faces  of  men. 

Prescott  saluted  and  stood  silent. 

Lee  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  "I  have  heard  good 
reports  of  you,  and  I  have  had  the  pleasure  also  to  see 
you  bear  yourself  well." 

Prescott 's  heart  beat  fast  at  this  praise  from  the 
first  man  of  the  South. 

"Do  you  know  the  way  to  Richmond?"  asked  the 
General. 

"  I  could  find  it  in  a  night  as  black  as  my  hat." 

"That  is  good.  Here  is  a  letter  that  I  wish  you  to 
take  there  and  deliver  as  soon  as  you  can  to  Mr.  Davis. 
It  is  important,  and  be  sure  you  do  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  any  of  the  Northern  raiders." 

He  held  out  a  small  sealed  envelope,  and  Prescott 
took  it. 


THE   FALL  OF   RICHMOND  351 

"Take  care  of  yourself,"  he  said,  "because  you  will 
have  a  dangerous  ride." 

Prescott  saluted  and  turned  away.  He  looked 
back  once,  and  the  General  was  still  sitting  alone  by 
the  fire,  his  face  grave  and  thoughtful. 

Prescott  had  a  good  horse,  and  when  he  rode  away 
was  full  of  faith  that  he  would  reach  Richmond.  He 
was  glad  to  go  because  of  the  confidence  Lee  showed 
in  him,  and  because  he  might  see  in  the  capital  those 
for  whom  he  cared  most. 

As  he  rode  on  the  lights  behind  him  died  and  the 
darkness  came  up  and  covered  Lee's  camp.  But  he 
had  truly  told  the  General  that  he  could  find  his  way 
to  Richmond  in  black  darkness,  and  to-night  he  had 
need  of  both  knowledge  and  instinct.  There  was  a 
shadowed  moon,  flurries  of  rain,  and  a  wind  moaning 
through  the  pine  woods.  From  far  away,  like  the 
swell  of  the  sea  on  the  rocks,  came  the  low  mutter  of 
the  guns.  Scarcely  ever  did  it  cease,  and  its  note  rose 
above  the  wailing  of  the  wind  like  a  kind  of  solemn 
chorus  that  got  upon  Prescott 's  nerves. 

"Is  it  a  funeral  song?"  he  asked. 

On  he  went  and  the  way  opened  before  him  in  the 
darkness;  no  Northern  horsemen  crossed  his  path; 
the  cry  of  "  Halt ! "  never  came.  It  seemed  to  Prescott 
that  fate  was  making  his  way  easy.  For  what 
purpose  ?  He  did  not  like  it.  He  wished  to  be  inter- 
rupted— to  feel  that  he  must  struggle  to  achieve  his 
journey.  This,  too,  got  upon  his  nerves.  He  grew 
lonely  and  afraid — not  afraid  of  physical  danger,  but 
of  the  omens  and  presages  that  the  night  seemed  to 
bear.  He  wondered  again  about  the  message  that  he 
bore.  Why  had  not  General  Lee  given  some  hint  of 
its  contents?  Then  he  blamed  himself  for  ques- 
tioning. 

He  rode  slowly  and  thus  many  hours  passed.  Mile 
after  mile  fell  behind  him  and  the  night  went  with 
them.  The  sun  sprang  up,  the  golden  day  enfolded 
the  earth,  and  at  last  from  the  top  of  a  hill  he  saw  afar 
the  spires  of  Richmond.  It  was  a  city  that  he  loved — 
his  home,  the  scene  of  the  greatest  events  in  his  life, 
including  his  manhood's  love;  and  as  he  looked  down 


3S2  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

upon  it  now  his  eyes  grew  misty.  What  would  be  its 
fate? 

He  rode  on,  giving  the  countersign  as  he  passed  the 
defenses.  With  the  pure  day,  the  omens  and  presages 
of  the  night  seemed  to  have  passed.  Richmond 
breathed  a  Sabbath  calm ;  the  Northern  armies  might 
have  been  a  thousand  miles  away  for  all  the  sign  it 
gave.  There  was  no  fear,  no  apprehension  on  the 
faces  he  saw.  Richmond  still  had  absolute  faith  in 
Lee;  whatever  his  lack  of  resources,  he  would  meet 
the  need. 

From  lofty  church  spires  bells  began  to  ring.  The 
air  was  pervaded  with  a  holy  calm,  and  Prescott,  with 
the  same  feeling  upon  him,  rode  on.  He  longed  to 
turn  aside  to  see  his  mother  and  to  call  at  the  Grayson 
cottage,  but  "as  soon  as  possible,"  the  General  had 
said,  and  he  must  deliver  his  message.  He  knocked 
at  the  door  of  the  White  House  of  the  Confederacy. 
"  Gone  to  church,"  the  servant  said  when  he  asked  for 
Mr.  Davis. 

Prescott  took  his  way  to  Doctor  Hoge's  church, 
well  knowing  where  the  President  of  the  Confederacy 
habitually  sat,  and  stiff  with  his  night's  riding,  walked 
and  led  his  mount.  At  the  church  door  he  gave  the 
horse  to  a  little  negro  boy  to  hold  and  went  quietly 
inside. 

The  President  and  his  family  were  in  their  pew  and 
the  minister  was  speaking.  Prescott  paused  a  few 
moments  at  the  entrance  to  the  aisle.  No  one  paid 
any  attention  to  him;  soldiers  were  too  common  a 
sight  to  be  noticed.  He  felt  in  the  inside  pocket  of 
his  waistcoat  and  drew  forth  the  sealed  envelope. 
Then  he  slipped  softly  down  the  aisle,  leaned  over  the 
President's  pew  and  handed  him  the  note  with  the 
whispered  words,  "A  message  from  General  Lee." 

Prescott,  receiving  no  orders,  quietly  withdrew  to 
a  neighbouring  vacant  pew  and  watched  Mr.  Davis  as 
he  opened  the  envelope  and  read  the  letter.  He  saw 
a  sudden  gray  pallor  sweep  over  his  face,  a  quick 
twitching  of  the  lips  and  then  a  return  of  the  wonted 
calm. 

The  President  of  the  Confederacy  refolded  the  note 


THE   FALL   OF   RICHMOND  353 

and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  Presently  he  rose  and  left 
the  church  and  Prescott  followed  him.  An  hour  later 
Richmond  was  stricken  into  a  momentary  dumbness, 
soon  followed  by  the  chattering  of  many  voices.  The 
city,  the  capital,  was  to  be  given  up.  General  Lee  had 
written  that  the  Southern  army  could  no  longer  defend 
it,  and  advised  the  immediate  departure  of  the 
Government,  which  was  now  packing  up,  ready  to 
take  flight  by  the  Danville  railroad. 

Richmond,  so  long  the  inviolate,  was  to  be  aban- 
doned. No  one  questioned  the  wisdom  of  Lee,  but 
they  were  struck  down  by  the  necessity.  Panic  ran 
like  fire  in  dry  grass.  The  Yankees  were  coming  at 
once,  and  they  would  burn  and  slay  !  Their  cavalry 
had  already  been  seen  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 
There  was  no  time  to  lose  if  they  were  to  escape  to 
the  farther  South. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  the  confused  crowd. 
The  rumours  grew;  they  said  everything,  but  of  one 
thing  the  people  were  sure.  The  Government  was 
packing  its  papers  and  treasures  in  all  haste,  and  the 
train  was  waiting  to  take  it  southward.  That  they 
beheld  with  their  own  eyes.  Great  numbers  of  the 
inhabitants,  too,  made  ready  for  flight  as  best  they 
could,  but  they  yet  preserved  most  of  their  courage. 
They  said  they  would  come  back.  General  Lee,  when 
he  gathered  new  forces,  would  return  to  the  rescue  of 
the  city  and  they  would  come  with  him.  The  women 
and  the  children  often  wept,  but  the  men,  though  with 
gloomy  faces,  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer. 

Prescott,  still  with  no  orders  and  knowing  that  none 
would  come,  walked  slowly  through  the  crowd,  his 
heart  full  of  grief  and  pity.  This  was  his  world  about 
him  that  was  falling  to  pieces.  He  knew  why  the 
night  had  been  so  full  of  omens;  why  the  distant 
cannon  had  escorted  him  like  funeral  guns. 

His  first  thought  was  now  of  his  mother,  and  his 
second  was  of  Lucia  Catherwood,  knowing  well  that 
in  such  a  moment  the  passions  of  all  the  wild  and 
lawless  would  rise.  He  hurried  to  his  home,  and  on 
his  way  he  met  the  Secretary,  calm,  composed,  a  quiet, 
cynical  smile  on  his  face. 


354  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"  '"Well,  Mr.  Sefton,"  said  Prescott,  "it  has  come." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Secretary,  "and  not  sooner  than 
I  have  expected." 

"You  are  leaving?"  said  Prescott. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Sefton,  "I  go  with  the  Govern- 
ment. I  am  part  of  it,  you  know,  but  I  travel  light. 
I  have  little  baggage.  I  tell  you,  too,  since  you  wish 
to  know  it,  that  I  asked  Miss  Catherwood  to  go  with 
us  as  my  wife — we  could  be  married  in  an  hour — or, 
if  not  that,  as  a  refugee  under  the  escort  of  Miss 
Gray  son." 

"Well  ?"  said  Prescott.     His  heart  beat  violently. 

"She  declined  both  propositions,"  replied  the 
Secretary  quietly.  "She  will  stay  here  and  await  the 
coming  of  the  conquerors.  After  all,  why  shouldn't 
she  ?  She  is  a  Northern  sympathizer  herself,  and  a 
great  change  in  her  position  and  ours  has  occurred 
suddenly." 

Their  eyes  met  and  Prescott  saw  his  fall  a  little  and 
for  the  first  time.  The  sudden  change  in  positions 
was,  indeed,  great  and  in  many  respects. 

The  Secretary  held  out  his  hand. 

"Good-by,  Captain  Prescott,"  he  said.  "We  have 
been  rivals,  but  not  altogether  enemies.  I  have 
always  wished  you  well  where  your  success  was  not 
at  the  cost  of  mine.  Let  us  part  in  friendship,  as 
we  may  not  meet  again." 

Prescott  took  the  extended  hand. 

"I  am  sorry  that  chance  or.  fate  ever  made  us 
rivals,"  the  Secretary  went  on.  "Maybe  we  shall  not 
be  so  any  longer,  and  since  I  retire  from  the  scene  I  tell 
you  I  have  known  all  the  while  that  Miss  Catherwood 
was  not  a  spy.  She  was  there  in  the  President's 
office  that  day,  and  she  might  have  been  one  had 
she  yielded  to  her  impulse,  but  she  put  the  tempta- 
tion aside.  She  has  told  you  this  and  she  told  you 
the  full  truth.  The  one  who  really  took  the  papers 
was  discovered  and  punished  by  me  long  ago." 

"Then  why "  began  Prescott. 

The  Secretary  made  a  gesture. 

"You  ask  why  I  kept  this  secret  ?"  he  said.  "It  was 
because  it  gave  me  power  over  both  you  and  her;  over 


THE    FALL   OF   RICHMOND  355 

her  through  you.  I  knew  your  part  in  it,  too.  Then 
I  helped  Miss  Grayson  and  her  when  she  came  back 
to  Richmond;  she  could  not  turn  me  away.  I 
played  upon  your  foolish  jealousy— I  fancy  I  did  that 
cleverly.  I  brought  her  back  here  to  draw  you  away 
from  Helen  Harley  and  she  drew  me,  too.  She  did 
not  intend  it,  nor  did  she  wish  it;  but  perhaps  she  felt 
her  power  ever  since  that  meeting  in  the  Wilderness 
and  knew  that  she  was  safe  from  any  disclosures 
of  mine.  But  she  loved  you  from  the  first,  Captain 
Prescott,  and  never  anybody  else.  You  see,  I  am 
frank  with  myself  as  I  have  tried  always  to  be  in  all 
respects.  I  have  lost  the  field  and  I  retire  in  favour  of 
the  winner,  yourself!" 

The  Secretary,  bowing,  walked  away.  Prescott 
watched  him  a  minute  or  two,  but  he  could  see  no 
signs  of  haste  or  excitement  in  the  compact,  erect 
figure.  Then  he  hastened  to  his  mother. 

He  found  her  in  her  parlour,  prepared  as  if  for  the 
coming  of  some  one.  There  was  fervent  feeling  in 
her  look,  but  her  manner  was  calm  as  she  embraced 
her  son.  Prescott  knew  her  thoughts,  and  as  he  had 
never  yet  found  fault  with  them  he  could  not  now 
at  such  a  time. 

"I  know  everything,  Robert,"  she  said.  "The 
Government  is  about  to  flee  from  Richmond." 

"Yes,  mother,"  he  replied,  "and  I  brought  the  order 
for  it  to  go.  Is  it  not  singular  that  such  a  message 
should  have  been  delivered  by  your  son  ?  Your  side 
wins,  mother." 

"I  never  doubted  that  it  would,  not  even  after  that 
terrible  day  at  Bull  Run  and  the  greater  defeats  that 
came  later.  A  cause  is  lost  from  the  beginning  when 
it  is  against  the  progress  of  the  human  race." 

There  was  mingled  joy  and  sadness  in  her  manner — 
joy  that  the  cause  which  she  thought  right  had  won; 
sadness  that  her  friends,  none  the  less  dear  because 
for  so  many  months  they  had  taken  another  view, 
should  suffer  misfortune. 

"Mother,"  Prescott  said  presently,  "I  do  not  wish 
to  leave  you,  but  I  must  go  to  the  cottage  of  Miss 
Grayson  and  Miss  Catherwood.  There  are  likely  to 


356  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

be  wild  scenes  in  Richmond  before  the  day  is  over, 
and  they  should  not  be  left  alone." 

The  look  that  she  bent  upon  her  son  then  was 
singularly  soft  and  tender — smiling,  too,  as  if  some- 
thing pleased  her. 

"They  will  be  here,  Robert,"  she  said.  "I  expect 
them  any  minute." 

"Here  !  in  this  house  !"  he  exclaimed,  starting. 

"Yes,  here  in  this  house,"  she  said  triumphantly 
"It  will  not  be  the  first  time  that  Lucia  Catherwood 
has  been  sheltered  behind  these  walls.  Do  you  not 
remember  when  they  wished  to  arrest  her,  and 
Lieutenant  Talbot  searched  the  cottage  for  her? 
She  was  at  that  very  moment  here,  in  this  house, 
hidden  in  your  own  room,  though  she  did  not  know 
that  it  was  yours.  I  saved  her  then.  Oh,  I  have 
known  her  longer  than  you  think." 

Stirred  by  a  sudden  emotion  Prescott  stooped 
down  and  kissed  his  mother. 

"I  have  always  known  that  you  were  a  wonderful 
woman,"  he  said,  "but  I  gave  you  credit  for  less 
courage  and  daring  than  you  really  have." 

Some  one  knocked. 

"There  they  are  now,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Prescott, 
and  hurrying  forward  she  opened  the  door.  Lucia 
Catherwood  and  Charlotte  Grayson  entered.  At 
first  they  did  not  see  Prescott,  who  stood  near  the 
window,  but  when  his  tall  form  met  their  eyes  Miss 
Grayson  uttered  a  little  cry  and  the  colour  rose  high 
in  Lucia's  face. 

"We  are  surprised  to  see  you,  Captain  Prescott," 
she  said. 

"But  glad,  too,  I  hope,"  he  replied. 

"Yes,  glad,  too,"  she  said  frankly. 

She  seemed  to  have  changed.  Some  of  her  reserve 
was  gone.  This  was  a  great  event  in  her  life  and  she 
was  coming  into  a  new  world  without  losing  the  old. 

"Miss  Catherwood,"  Prescott  said,  "I  am  glad  that 
my  mother's  house  is  to  be  the  shelter  of  Miss  Grayson 
and  yourself  at  such  a  time.  We  have  one  or  two 
faithful  and  strong-armed  servants  who  will  see  that 
you  suffer  no  harm." 


THE    FALL   OF    RICHMOND  357 

The  two  women  hesitated  and  were  embarrassed. 
Prescott  saw  it. 

"You  will  not  be  bothered  much  by  me,"  he  said. 
"I  have  no  instructions,  but  it  is  obvious  that  I  should 
go  forth  and  help  maintain  order."  Then  he  added: 
"I  saw  Mr.  Sefton  departing.  He  bade  me  good-by 
as  if  he  did  not  expect  ever  to  be  in  Richmond  again." 

Again  Lucia  Catherwood  flushed. 

"He  said  a  like  farewell  to  me,"  she  said. 

Prescott 's  gaze  met  hers,  and  she  flushed  deeper 
than  ever  as  her  eyes  dropped  for  a  moment. 

"I  hope  that  he  has  gone  forever,"  said  Prescott. 
"He  is  an  able  man  and  I  admire  him  in  many  ways. 
But  I  think  him  a  dangerous  man,  too." 

"Amen,"  said  Miss  Charlotte  Grayson  with 
emphasis.  Lucia  was  silent,  but  she  did  not  seem 
to  be  offended. 

He  went  presently  into  the  street,  where,  indeed, 
his  duty  called  him.  When  a  capital,  after  years  of 
war,  is  about  to  fall,  the  forces  of  evil  are  always 
unchained,  and  now  it  was  so  with  Richmond.  Out 
from  all  the  slums  came  the  men  and  women  of  the 
lower  world,  and  down  by  the  navy  storehouses  the 
wharf -rats  were  swarming.  They  were  drunk  already, 
and  with  foul  words  on  their  lips  they  gathered 
before  the  stores,  looking  for  plunder.  Then  they 
broke  in  the  barrels  of  whisky  at  the  wharf  and 
became  drunker  and  madder  than  ever.  The  liquor 
ran  about  them  in  great  streams.  Standing  ankle 
deep  in  the  gutters,  they  waded  in  it  and  splashed 
it  over  each  other.  Hilarious  shouts  and  cries 
arose  and  they  began  to  fight  among  themselves. 
Everywhere  the  thieves  came  from  their  holes  and 
were  already  plundering  the  houses. 

Steadily  the  skies  darkened  over  Richmond  and  a 
terrified  multitude  kept  pressing  toward  the  railroad 
station,  seeking  to  flee  into  the  farther  South.  Behind 
them  the  mad  crowd  still  drank  and  fought  in  the 
gutters  and  the  thieves  passed  from  house  to  house. 
Again  and  again  the  cry  was  raised  that  the  Yankees 
were  here,  but  still  they  did  not  come.  Many  fancied 
that  they  heard  far  away  the  thunder  of  the  guns,  and 


3S8  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

even  Prescott  was  not  sure.  He  went  once  to  the 
Harley  house  and  found  Helen  there,  unafraid,  quiet- 
ing the  apprehensions  of  her  father,  \vho  should  have 
been  quieting  hers.  She,  too,  would  stay.  Mrs. 
Markham,  she  told  him,  was  already  on  the  train  and 
would  follow  the  Government.  Prescott  was  very 
glad  that  she  had  gone.  He  felt  a  mighty  relief  to 
know  that  this  woman  was  passing  southward  and, 
he  hoped,  out  of  his  life. 

Twilight  came  on  and  then  the  night,  settling  down 
black  and  heavy  over  the  lost  capital.  The  President 
and  his  Cabinet  were  ready  and  would  soon  start; 
the  small  garrison  was  withdrawing;  an  officer  at 
the  head  of  men  with  torches  went  about  the  city, 
setting  fire  to  all  the  property  of  the  Government — 
armouries,  machine  shops,  storehouses,  wharves.  The 
flames  shot  up  at  many  points  and  hung  like  lurid 
clouds,  shedding  a  ghastly  light  over  Richmond. 

The  gunboats  in  the  river,  abandoned  by  their 
crews,  were  set  on  fire,  and  by  and  by  they  blew  up 
with  tremendous  explosions.  The  reports  added 
to  the  terror  of  the  fleeing  crowd  and  cries  of  fright 
arose  from  the  women  and  children.  The  rumours 
which  had  flown  so  fast  in  the  day  thickened  and 
grew  blacker  in  the  night.  "All  the  city  was  to  be 
burned  !  The  Yankees  were  going  to  massacre  every- 
body !"  It  was  in  vain  for  the  soldiers,  who  knew 
better,  to  protest.  The  Government  property,  burn- 
ing so  vividly,  gave  colour  to  their  fears.  • 

It  seemed  as  if  all  Richmond  were  on  fire.  The 
city  lay  lurid  and  ghastly  under  the  light  of  these 
giant  torches.  Wandering  winds  picked  up  the  ashes 
and  sifted  them  down  like  a  fine  gray  snow.  Wagons 
loaded  with  children  and  household  goods  passed 
out  on  every  road.  When  the  President  and  his 
Cabinet  were  gone,  and  the  whistling  of  the  train  was 
heard  for  the  last  time,  the  soldiers  disappeared  up  the 
river,  but  the  streets  and  roads  were  still  crowded 
with  the  refugees,  and  the  fires,  burning  more  fiercely 
than  ever,  spread  now  to  private  houses.  Richmond 
was  a  vast  core  of  light. 

Prescott  will  never  forget  that  night,  the  sad  story 


THE    FALL   OF   RICHMOND  359 

of  a  fallen  city,  the  passing  of  the  old  South,  the 
weepings,  the  farewells,  the  people  going  from  their 
homes  out  upon  the  bare  country  roads  in  the  dark- 
ness, the  drunken  mob  that  still  danced  and  fought 
behind  them,  and  the  burning  city  making  its  own 
funeral  pyre. 

Midnight  passed,  but  there  was  still  no  sign  of  the 
Yankees.  Prescott  wished  that  they  would  come,  for 
he  had  no  fear  of  them :  they  would  save  the  city  from 
the  destruction  that  was  threatening  it  and  restore 
order.  Richmond  was  without  rulers.  The  old  had 
gone,  but  the  new  had  not  come. 

The  wheels  of  some  belated  guns  rattled  dully  in  the 
street,  passing  up  the  river  to  join  in  the  retreat. 
The  horsemen  supporting  it  filed  by  like  phantoms, 
and  many  of  them,  weatherbeaten  men,  shed 
tears  in  the  darkness.  From  the  river  came  a 
dazzling  flash  followed  by  a  tremendous  roar  as 
another  boat  blew  up,  and  then  General  Breckinridge, 
the  Secretary  of  War,  and  his  staff  rode  over  the  last 
bridge,  already  set  on  fire,  its  burning  timbers  giving 
them  a  final  salute  as  they  passed.  It  was  now  half 
way  between  midnight  and  morning,  and  blazing 
Richmond  passively  awaited  its  fate. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

THE    TELEGRAPH    STATION 

It  had  been  a  night  of  labour  and  anxiety  for 
Prescott.  In  the  turmoil  of  the  flight  he  had  been  for- 
gotten by  the  President  and  all  others  who  had  the 
power  to  give  him  orders,  and  he  scarcely  knew  what 
to  do.  It  was  always  his  intention ,  an  intention  shared 
by  his  comrades,  to  resist  to  the  last,  and  at  times  he 
felt  like  joining  the  soldiers  in  their  retreat  up  the 
river,  whence  by  a  circuitous  journey  he  would  rejoin 
General  Lee;  but  Richmond  held  him.  He  was  not 
willing  to  go  while  his  mother  and  Lucia,  who  might 
need  him  at  any  moment,  were  there,  and  the  pathos 
of  the. scenes  around  him  troubled  his  heart.  Many 
a  woman  and  child  did  he  assist  in  flight,  and  he 
resolved  that  he  would  stay  until  he  saw  the  Northern 
troops  coming.  Then  he  would  slip  quietly  away 
and  find  Lee. 

He  paid  occasional  visits  to  his  home  and  always 
the  three  women  were  at  the  windows  wide  awake — 
it  was  not  a  night  when  one  could  sleep.  The  same 
awe  was  on  their  faces  as  they  gazed  at  the  burning 
buildings,- the  towers  of  fire  twisted  and  coiled  by  the 
wind.  Overhead  was  a  sullen  sky,  a  roof  of  smoke 
shutting  out  the  stars,  and  clouds  of  fine  ashes  shifting 
with  the  wind. 

"  Will  all  the  city  burn,  Robert  ? "  asked  his  mother 
far  toward  morning. 

"  I  do  not  know,  mother, "  he  replied,  "but  there  is 
danger  of  it.  I  am  a  loyal  Southerner,  but  I  pray 
that  the  Yankees  will  come  quickly.  It  seems  a 
singular  thing  to  say,  but  Richmond  now  needs  their 
aid. " 

Lucia  said  little.  Once,  as  Prescott  stood  outside, 
he  saw  her  face  framed  in  the  window  like  a  face  in 
360 


THE  /TELEGRAPH   STATION  361 

a  picture,  a  face  as  pure  and  as  earnest  as  that  of 
Ruth  amid  the  corn.  He  wondered  why  he  had  ever 
thought  it  possible  that  she  could  love  or  marry 
James  Sefton.  Alike  in  will  and  strength  of  mind, 
they  were  so  unlike  in  everything  else.  He  came 
nearer.  The  other  two  were  at  another  window, 
intent  on  the  fire. 

"Lucia,"  he  whispered,  "if  I  stay  here  it  is  partly 
for  love  of  you.  Tell  me,  if  you  still  hold  anything 
against  me,  that  you  forgive  me.  I  have  been  weak 
and  foolish,  but  if  so  it  was  because  I  had  lost  some- 
thing that  I  valued  most  in  all  the  world.  Again  I 
say  I  was  weak  and  foolish,  but  that  was  all;  I  have 
done  nothing  wrong.  Oh,  I  was  mad,  but  it  was  a 
momentary  madness,  and  I  love  you  and  you  alone. " 

She  put  down  her  hand  from  the  window  and  shyly 
touched  his  hair.  He  seized  the  hand  and  kissed  it. 
She  hastily  withdrew  it,  and  the  red  arose  in  her  cheeks, 
but  her  eyes  were  not  unkind. 

His  world,  the  world  of  the  old  South,  was  still 
falling  about  him.  Piece  by  piece  it  fell.  The  hour 
was  far  toward  morning.  The  rumble  of  wagons  in 
the  streets  died.  All  the  refugees  who  could  go  were 
gone,  but  the  thieves  and  the  drunkards  were  still 
abroad.  In  some  places  men  had  begun  to  make 
efforts  to  check  the  fire  and  to  save  the  city  from  total 
ruin,  and  Prescott  helped  them,  working  amid  the 
smoke  and  the  ashes. 

The  long  night  of  terror  come  to  an  end  and  the 
broad  sun  flushed  the  heavens.  Then  rose  again  the 
cry:  "The  Yankees!"  and  now  report  and  rumour 
were  true.  Northern  troops  were  approaching, 
gazing  curiously  at  this  burning  city  which  for  four 
years  had  defied  efforts,  costing  nearly  a  million  lives, 
and  the  Mayor  went  forth  ready  to  receive  them  and 
make  the  surrender. 

Prescott  and  the  three  women  followed  to  see.  He 
was  stained  and  blackened  now,  and  he  could  watch 
in  safety,  slipping  out  afterward  to  join  his  own  army. 
The  fires  still  roared,  and  overhead  the  clouds  of  smoke 
still  drifted.  Afar  sounded  the  low,  steady  beat  of  a 
drum.  The  vanguard  of  the  North  was  entering  the 


362  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

Southern  capital,  and  even  those  fighting  the  fires 
deserted  their  work  for  awhile  to  look  on. 

Slowly  the  conquerors  came  down  the  street, 
gazing  at  the  burning  city  and  those  of  its  people  who 
remained.  They  themselves  bore  all  the  marks  of 
war,  their  uniforms  torn  and  muddy,  their  faces  thin 
and  brown,  their  ranks  uneven.  They  marched 
mostly  in  silence,  the  people  looking  on  and  saying 
little.  Presently  they  entered  the  Capitol  grounds. 
A  boy  among  the  cavalry  sprang  from  his  horse  and 
ran  into  the  building,  holding  a  small  tightly  wrapped 
package  in  his  hand. 

Prescott,  looking  up,  saw  the  Stars  and  Bars  come 
down  from  the  dome  of  the  Capitol ;  then  a  moment 
later  something  shot  up  in  its  place,  and  unfolding, 
spread  its  full  length  in  the  wind  until  all  the  stripes 
and  stars  were  shining.  The  flag  of  the  Union  once 
more  waved  over  Richmond.  A  cheer,  not  loud, 
broke  from  the  Northern  troops  and  its  echo  again 
came  from  the  crowd. 

Prescott  felt  something  stir  within  him  and  a  single 
tear  ran  down  his  cheek.  He  was  not  a  sentimental 
man,  but  he  had  fought  four  years  for  the  flag  that 
was  now  gone  forever.  And  yet  the  sight  of  the 
new  flag  that  was  the  old  one,  too,  was  not  wholly 
painful.  He  was  aware  of  the  feeling  that  it  was  like 
an  old  and  loved  friend  come  back  again. 

Then  the  march  went  on,  solemn  and  somber.  The 
victors  showed  no  elation;  there  were  no  shouts,  no 
cheers.  The  lean,  brown  men  in  the  faded  blue 
uniforms  rarely  spoke,  and  the  watchful,  anxious  eyes 
of  the  officers  searched  everywhere.  The  crowd 
around  them  sank  into  silence,  but  above  them  and 
around  them  the  flames  of  the  burning  city  roared  and 
crackled  as  they  bit  deep  into  the  wood.  Now  and 
then  there  was  a  rumble  and  then  a  crash  as  a  house, 
its  supports  eaten  away,  fell  in ;  and  at  rare  intervals 
a  tremendous  explosion  as  some  magazine  blew  up,  to 
be  followed  by  a  minute  of  intense,  vivid  silence,  for 
which  the  roaring  flames  seemed  only  a  background. 

The  drunken  mob  of  the  under-world  shrank  away 
at  the  sight  of  the  troops,  and  presently  relapsed,  too, 


THE   TELEGRAPH   STATION  363 

into  a  sullen  silence  of  fear  or  awe.  The  immense 
cloud  of  smoke  which  had  been  gathering  for  so 
many  hours  over  Richmond  thickened  and  darkened 
and  was  cut  through  here  and  there  by  the  towers  of 
flame  which  were  leaping  higher  and  higher.  Then 
a  strong  breeze  sprang  up,  blowing  off  the  river,  and 
the  fire  reached  the  warehouses  filled  with  cotton, 
which  burned  almost  like  gunpowder,  and  the  con- 
flagration gathered  more  volume  and  vigour.  The 
wind  whirled  it  about  in  vast  surges  and  eddies. 
Ashes  and  sparks  flew  in  showers.  The  light  of  the 
sun  was  obscured  by  the  wide  roof  of  smoke,  but 
beneath  there  was  the  lurid  light  of  the  fire.  The 
men  saw  the  faces  of  each  other  in  a  crimson  glow, 
and  in  such  a  light  the  mind,  too,  magnified  and  dis- 
torted the  objects  that  the  eye  beheld.  The  victorious 
soldiers  themselves  looked  with  awe  upon  the  burning 
city.  They  had  felt,  in  no  event,  any  desire  to 
plunder  or  destroy;  and  now  it  was  alike  their  instinct 
and  wish  to  save.  Regiment  after  regiment  stacked 
arms  on  Shockoe  Hill,  divided  into  companies  under 
the  command  of  officers,  and  disappeared  down  the 
smoking  street — not  now  fighters  of  battles,  but 
fighters  of  fire.  The  Yankees  had,  indeed,  come  in 
time,  for  to  them  the  saving  of  the  city  from  entire 
ruin  was  due.  All  day  they  worked  with  the  people 
who  were  left,  among  the  torrents  of  flame  and  smoke, 
suppressing  the  fire  in  places,  and  in  others,  where 
they  could  not,  taking  out  the  household  goods  and 
heaping  them  in  the  squares.  They  worked,  too,  to 
an  uncommon  chorus.  Cartridges  and  shells  were 
exploding  in  the  burning  magazines,  the  cartridges 
with  a  steady  crackle  and  the  shells  with  a  hiss  and 
a  scream  and  then  a  stream  of  light.  All  the  time 
the  smoke  grew  thicker  and  stung  the  eyes  of  those 
who  toiled  in  its  eddies. 

Man  gradually  conquered,  and  night  came  upon  a 
city  containing  acres  and  acres  of  smoking  ruins,  but 
with  the  fires  out  and  a  part  left  fit  for  human  habi- 
tation. Then  Prescott  turned  to  go.  The  Harley 
house  was  swept  away,  and  the  Grayson  cottage  had 
suffered  the  same  fate;  but  the  inmates  of  both  were 


364  BEFORE   THE    DAWN 

gathered  at  his  mother's  home  and  he  knew  they  were 
safe.  The  stern,  military  discipline  of  the  conquerors 
would  soon  cover  every  corner  of  the  city,  and  there 
would  be  no  more  drinking,  no  more  rioting,  no  more 
fires. 

His  mother  embraced  him  and  wept  for  the  first 
time. 

"I  would  have  you  stay  now,"  she  said,  "but  if  you 
will  go  I  say  nothing  against  it." 

Lucia  Catherwood  gave  him  her  hand  and  a  look 
which  said,  "I,  too,  await  your  return." 

Prescott's  horse  was  gone,  he  knew  not  where; 
so  he  went  into  the  country  on  foot  in  search  of  Lee's 
army,  looking  back  now  and  then  at  the  lost  city 
under  the  black  pall  of  smoke.  While  there,  he  had 
retained  a  hope  that  Lee  would  come  and  retake  it, 
but  he  had  none  now.  When  the  Stars  and  Bars  went 
down  on  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  sun  of  the  Confederacy  set  with  it.  But  still 
he  had  a  vague  idea  of  rejoining  Lee  and  fighting  to 
the  last;  just  why  he  did  not  understand;  but  the 
blind  instinct  was  in  him. 

He  did  not  know  where  Lee  had  gone  and  he  learned 
that  the  task  of  finding  him  was  far  easier  in  theory 
than  in  practice.  The  Northern  armies  seemed  to 
be  on  all  sides  of  Richmond  as  well  as  in  it,  to  encircle 
it  with  a  ring  of  steel ;  and  Prescott  passed  night  after 
night  in  the  woods,  hiding  from  the  horsemen  in  blue 
who  rode  everywhere.  He  found  now  and  then  food 
at  some  lone  farmhouse,  and  heard  many  reports, 
particularly  of  Sheridan,  who,  they  said,  never  slept, 
but  passed  his  days  and  nights  clipping  down  the 
Southern  army.  Lee,  they  would  say,  was  just 
ahead;  but  when  Prescott  reached  "just  ahead"  the 
General  was  not  there.  Lee  always  seemed  to  be 
fleeing  away  before  him. 

Spring  rushed  on  with  soft,  warm  winds  and  an 
April  day  broke  up  in  rain.  The  night  was  black, 
and  Prescott,  lost  in  the  woods,  seeking  somewhere 
a  shelter,  heard  a  sound  which  he  knew  to  be  the 
rumble  of  a  train.  Hope  sprang  up;  where  there  was 
a  train  there  was  a  railroad,  and  a  railroad  meant 


THE   TELEGRAPH   STATION  365 

life.  He  pushed  on  in  the  direction  whence  the 
sound  came,  cowering  before  the  wind  and  the  rain, 
and  at  last  saw  a  light.  It  might  be  Yankees  or  it 
might  not  be  Yankees,  but  Prescott  now  did  not  care 
which,  intent  as  he  was  upon  food  and  shelter. 

The  light  led  him  at  last  to  an  unpainted,  one-room 
shanty  in  the  woods  by  the  railroad  track,  a  telegraph 
station.  Prescott  stared  in  at  the  window  and  at 
the  lone  operator,  a  lank  youth  of  twenty,  who 
started  back  when  he  saw  the  unshorn  and  ghastly 
face  at  the  window.  But  he  recovered  his  coolness  in 
a  moment  and  said: 

"Come  in,  stranger;  I  guess  you're  a  hungry  Reb." 

Prescott  entered,  and  the  lank  youth,  without  a 
word,  took  down  some  crackers  and  hard  cheese 
from  a  shelf. 

"Eat  it  all,"  he  said;  "you're  welcome." 

Prescott  ate  voraciously  and  dried  his  clothing 
before  the  fire  in  a  little  stove. 

The  telegraph  instrument  on  a  table  in  a  corner 
kept  up  a  monotonous  ticking,  to  which  the  operator 
paid  no  attention.  But  it  was  a  soothing  sound 
to  Prescott,  and  with  the  food  and  the  heat  and  the 
restful  atmosphere  he  began  to  feel  sleepy.  The  lank 
youth  said  nothing,  but  watched  his  guest  languidly 
and  apparently  without  curiosity. 

Presently  the  clicking  of  the  telegraph  instrument 
increased  in  rapidity  and  emphasis  and  the  operator 
went  to  the  table.  The  rapid  tick  aroused  Prescott 
from  the  sleep  into  which  he  was  falling. 

"Tick-tack,  tick-tack,  tick-tack,"  went  the  instru- 
ment. A  look  of  interest  appeared  on  the  face  of  the 
lank  youth. 

"That  instrument  seems  to  be  talking  to  you," 
said  Prescott. 

"  Yes,  it's  saying  a  few  words,"  replied  the  operator. 

"Tick-tack,  tick-tack,  tick-tack!"  went  the  instru- 
ment. 

"  It's  a  friend  of  mine  farther  up  the  line,"  said  the 
boy.  "Would  you  like  to  hear  what  he's  saying?" 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  replied  Prescott. 

It  was  very  warm  in  the  room  and  he  was  still 


366  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

drowsy.  The  boy  began  in  a  mechanical  voice  as  of 
one  who  reads: 

"General  Lee  surrendered  to  General  Grant 
to-day " 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Prescott,  springing  to 
his  feet.  But  the  boy  went  on: 

"General  Lee  surrendered  to  General  Grant  to-day 
at  Appomattox  Court  House.  The  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  has  laid  down  its  arms  and  the  war  is  over." 

Prescott  stood  for  a  moment  like  one  dazed,  then 
staggered  and  fell  back  in  his  chair. 

"  I  guess  you're  one  of  that  army,  mister,"  said  the 
boy,  hastily  bringing  a  cup  of  water. 

"I  was,"  replied  Prescott  as  he  recovered  himself. 

He  stayed  all  night  in  the  hut — there  was  nothing 
now  to  hurry  for — and  the  next  morning  the  lank 
youth,  with  the  same  taciturn  generosity,  shared  with 
him  his  breakfast. 

Prescott  turned  back  toward  Richmond,  his  heart 
swelling  with  the  desire  for  home.  The  sun  came  out 
bright  and  strong,  the  rain  dried  up,  and  the  world  was 
again  young  and  beautiful ;  but  the  country  remained 
lone  and  desolate,  and  not  till  nearly  noon  did  he 
come  in  contact  with  human  life.  Then  he  saw  a  half- 
dozen  horsemen  approaching — whether  Northern  or 
Southern  he  did  not  care — it  did  not  matter  now,  and 
he  went  on  straight  toward  them. 

But  the  foremost  rider  leaped  down  with  a  cry 
of  joy  and  wrung  his  hand. 

"  Bob,  Bob,  old  boy  !  "  he  said.  "We  did  not  know 
what  had  become  of  you  and  we  had  given  you  up  for 
dead!" 

It  was  Talbot,  and  Prescott  returned  his  grasp 
with  interest. 

"Is  it  true — true  that  Lee  has  surrendered?"  he 
asked,  though  knowing  well  that  it  was  true. 

Talbot 's  eyes  became  misty. 

"Yes,  it  is  all  so,"  he  replied.  "I  was  there  and 
I  saw  it.  We  went  down  to  Appomattox  and  the 
Yankees  came  right  after  us — I  don't  know  how  many 
strong,  but  too  strong  for  us.  Grant  would  never  let 
us  alone.  He  was  there  at  our  heels  all  the  time,  and 


THE   TELEGRAPH   STATION  367 

Sheridan  kept  galloping  around  us,  lopping  off  every 
straggling  regiment  and  making  our  lives  miser- 
able. When  we  got  to  Appomattox  we  found  the 
Yankees  were  so  thick  that  we  stayed  there.  We 
couldn't  move.  There  weren't  more  than  fifteen 
thousand  of  us  left,  and  we  were  starved  and  bare- 
foot. The  firing  around  us  never  stopped.  Grant 
kept  pressing  and  pressing.  Bob,  I  felt  then  that 
something  was  going  to  happen." 

Talbot  stopped  and  choked,  but  in  a  moment  he 
went  on: 

"Our  generals  had  a  big  talk — I  don't  know  what 
they  said,  but  I  know  what  they  did.  A  messenger 
went  over  to  Grant's  army,  and  by  and  by  General 
Grant  and  a  lot  of  officers  came  and  met  General  Lee 
and  his  staff,  and  they  went  into  a  house  and  talked 
a  long  time.  When  they  came  out  it  was  all  over. 
The  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  the  victor  of  so  many 
great  battles,  was  no  more.  We  couldn't  believe  it 
for  awhile,  though  we  knew  that  it  must  come.  We 
hung  around  Marse  Bob,  and  asked  him  if  it  was  true, 
and  he  said  it  was.  He  said  when  a  war  was  over  it 
was  over.  He  said  we  were  beaten  and  we  must  now 
stop  fighting.  He  told  us  all  to  go  home  and  go  to 
work.  It  was  an  undivided  Union;  the  war  had 
settled  that  and  we  must  stick  to  it.  General  Grant 
had  promised  him  that  we  shouldn't  be  harmed,  and 
he  told  us  to  think  no  more  of  war  now,  but  to  rebuild 
our  homes  and  our  country.  We  loved  Marse  Bob  in 
victory,  but  we  love  him  just  as  much  now  in  defeat. 
We  crowded  around  him  and  we  shook  his  hand  and 
we  would  hardly  let  him  go." 

Talbot  choked  again,  and  it  was  a  long  time  until  he 
continued : 

"General  Grant  did  everything  that  he  promised 
General  Lee.  He's  the  right  sort  all  through — so  is 
the  Yankee  army.  I've  got  nothing  against  it.  They 
never  insulted  us  with  a  single  word.  We  had  our  own 
camp  and  they  sent  us  over  part  of  their  rations.  We 
needed  them  badly  enough ;  and  then  General  Grant 
said  that  every  man  among  us  who  had  a  horse  was  to 
take  it — and  we  did.  Here  I  am  on  mine,  and  I 


368  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

reckon  you  might  call  it  a  gift  from  the  Yankee 
General." 

The  little  group  was  silent.  They  had  fought  four 
years,  and  all  had  ended  in  defeat.  Tears  were  wiped 
from  more  than  one  brown  face. 

"We're  going  to  Richmond,  Bob,"  said  Talbot  at 
last,  "and  I  guess  you  are  bound  that  way,  too.  You 
haven't  any  horse.  Here,  get  up  behind  me." 

Prescott  accepted  the  offer,  and  the  silent  little 
group  rode  on  toward  Richmond.  On  the  way  there 
Talbot  said: 

"Vincent  Harley  is  dead.  He  was  killed  at  Sailor's 
Creek.  He  led  a  last  charge  and  was  shot  through  the 
heart.  He  must  have  died  instantly,  but  he  did  not 
even  fall  from  the  saddle.  When  the  charge  spent  its 
force,  the  reins  had  dropped  from  his  hands,  but  he  was 
sitting  erect — stone  dead.  It's  a  coincidence,  but 
General  Markham  was  killed  on  the  same  day." 

Prescott  said  nothing,  but  Thomas  Talbot,  who 
never  remained  long  in  the  depths,  soon  began  to 
show  signs  of  returning  cheerfulness.  They  stopped 
for  a  noon  rest  in  a  clearing,  and  after  they  ate  their 
scanty  dinner  Talbot  leaped  upon  a  stump. 

"Oyez!  Oyez!"  he  cried.  "Attention  all!  I, 
Thomas  Talbot,  do  offer  for  sale  one  job  lot  of  articles. 
Never  before  was  there  such  an  opportunity  to 
obtain  the  rare  and  valuable  at  such  low  prices." 

"What  are  you  selling,  Tom?"  asked  Prescott. 

"  Listen  and  learn, "  replied  Talbot,  in  sonorous  and 
solemn  tones.  "Gentlemen,  I  offer  to  the  highest 
bidder  and  without  reserve  one  Confederacy,  some- 
what soiled,  battered  and  damaged,  but  surrounded 
by  glorious  associations.  The  former  owners  having 
no  further  use  for  it,  this  valuable  piece  of  property  is 
put  upon  the  market.  Who'll  buy?  Who'll  buy? 
Come,  gentlemen,  bid  up.  You'll  never  have  another 
such  chance.  What  do  I  hear?  What  do  I  hear?" 

"Thirty  cents  ! "  called  some  one. 

"Thirty  cents!  I  am  bid  thirty  cents!"  cried 
Talbot. 

"  Confederate  money, "  added  the  bidder. 

A  laugh  arose. 


THE   TELEGRAPH   STATION  369 

"Do  you  want  me  to  give  you  this  property?" 
asked  Talbot. 

But  he  could  get  no  higher  bid,  and  he  descended 
from  the  stump  amid  laughter  that  bordered  closely 
on  something  else. 

Then  they  resumed  their  journey. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE     COIN      OF      GOLD 

Prescott  had  been  at  home  some  months.  John- 
ston's army,  too,  had  surrendered.  Everywhere  the 
soldiers  of  the  South,  seeing  that  further  resistance 
would  be  criminal,  laid  down  their  arms.  A  mighty 
war,  waged  for  four  years  with  unparalleled  tenacity 
and  strewn  all  the  way  with  tremendous  battles, 
ceased  with  astonishing  quickness. 

The  people  of  Richmond  were  already  planning  the 
rebuilding  of  the  city;  the  youthful  were  looking 
forward  with  hope  to  the  future,  and  not  the  least 
sanguine  among  them  were  a  little  group  gathered 
as  of  old  in  the  newspaper  office  of  Winthrop.  They 
had  been  discussing  their  own  purposes. 

"  I  shall  stay  in  Richmond  and  continue  the  publi- 
cation of  my  newspaper,"  said  Winthrop. 

"And  I  shall  bring  my  wandering  journal  here,  give 
it  a  permanent  home  and  be  your  deadly  rival, "  said 
Raymond. 

"  Good  ! "  said  Winthrop,  and  they  shook  hands  on 
the  bargain. 

General  Wood  said  nothing  about  his  own  happiness, 
which  he  considered  assured,  because  he  was  to  be 
married  to  Helen  Harley  the  following  month.  But 
some  one  spoke  presently  of  the  Secretary. 

"Gone  to  England!"  said  Raymond  briefly. 

Raymond  mentioned  a  little  later  a  piece  of  gossip 
that  was  being  circulated  quietly  in  Richmond. 
A  million  dollars  in  gold  left  in  the  Confederate 
treasury  had  disappeared  mysteriously;  whether  it 
had  been  moved  before  the  flight  of  the  Government 
or  at  that  time  nobody  knew.  As  there  was  no 
Confederate  Government  now,  it  consequently  had 
370 


THE   COIN   OF   GOLD  37l 

no   owner,   and   nobody  took  the  trouble  to  look 
for  it. 

Prescott  was  in  London  a  few  years  later,  where  he 
found  it  necessary  to  do  some  business  with  the  great 
banking  firm  of  Sefton  &  Calder,  known  throughout 
two  continents  as  a  model  of  business  ability  and 
integrity.  The  senior  partner  greeted  him  with 
warmth  and  insisted  on  taking  him  home  to  dinner, 
where  he  met  Mrs.  Sefton,  a  blond  woman  of  wit  and 
beauty  about  whom  a  man  had  once  sought  to  force 
a  quarrel  upon  him.  She  was  very  cordial  to  him, 
asking  him  many  questions  concerning  people  in 
Richmond  and  showing  great  familiarity  with  the  old 
town.  Prescott  thought  that  on  the  whole  both 
Mr.  Sefton  and  his  wife  had  married  well. 

But  all  this,  on  that  day  in  Winthrop's  office,  was 
in  the  future,  and  after  an  hour's  talk  he  walked  alone 
up  the  street.  The  world  was  fair,  life  seemed  all 
before  him,  and  he  turned  his  course  to  the  new  home 
of  Helen  Harley.  She  had  grieved  for  her  brother 
awhile,  but  now  she  was  happy  in  her  coming  marriage. 
Lucia  and  Miss  Grayson  were  with  her,  helping  to 
prepare  for  the  day,  and  making  a  home  there,  too, 
until  they  could  have  one  of  their  own. 

Prescott  had  noticed  his  mother's  increasing  love 
for  Lucia,  but  between  Lucia  and  himself  there  was 
still  some  constraint;  why,  he  did  not  know,  but  it 
troubled  him. 

He  knocked  at  the  Harley  home  and  Helen  herself 
answered  the  door. 

"  Can  I  see  Miss  Catherwood  ? "  he  asked. 

"  She  is  in  the  next  room, "  she  replied.  "  She  does 
not  know  that  you  are  here,  but  I  think  you  can  go  in 
unannounced." 

She  opened  the  second  door  for  him  at  once  and  he 
entered.  Lucia  was  standing  by  the  window  and 
there  was  a  faint  smile  on  her  face,  but  the  smile  was 
sad.  She  was  looking  at  something  in  her  hand  and 
Prescott 's  eyes  caught  a  yellow  gleam. 

His  step  had  been  so  light  that  Lucia  did  not  hear 
him.  He  came  nearer  and  she  looked  up.  Then  her 
hands  closed  quickly  over  the  yellow  gleam. 


372  BEFORE   THE   DAWN 

"What  have  you  there?"  asked  Prescott,  suddenly 
growing  brave. 

"  Something  that  belongs  to  you.  " 

"Let  me  see  it." 

She  opened  her  hand  and  a  gold  double  eagle  lay 
in  the  palm. 

"It  is  the  last  that  you  left  on  Miss  Grayson's 
doorstep,  "she  said,  "and  I  am  going  to  give  it  back 
to  you." 

"  I  will  take  it,  "  he  said,  "  on  one  condition.  " 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  you  come  with  it." 

She  flushed  a  rosy  red. 

"Won't  you  come,  Lucia?"  he  said.  "Life  is  not 
life  without  you." 

"  Yes, "  she  said  softly,  "  I  will  come. " 


THE    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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UNIVERSITY  Os?  C .-AUFOKN1A 
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